


Mindless Dreaming

by Malliday



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: ALL THE SEXUAL TENSION BC IT'S WHAT I DO, Aesthetic Ahead, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bar Owner Bellamy, Bickering Bellarke, Evil Bitch Abby, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Musician Clarke, Pining, Slow Burn, Song-inspired, Tiny Bit The Notebook-Inspired, sentimental AF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-01-13 09:38:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 85,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18466315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malliday/pseuds/Malliday
Summary: One summer. That was it. She could survive for a summer, especially since Wells would be there too.But the last thing she wanted to do was go with her parents to the Hamptons so she could be paraded around to her mother’s business associates as a “future surgeon.”It didn’t matter that Clarke didn’t want to be a doctor, and it definitely didn’t matter that she wanted to be a musician instead.Because “hobbies aren’t careers, Clarke.”So she definitely hadn’t anticipated actually enjoying herself in the Hamptons, but then again, she hadn’t anticipated meeting Bellamy Blake either.





	1. Prologue - Once Upon Another Time

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY SUNDAY!
> 
> We have arrived at my THIRD long fic (THREE? SERIOUSLY? HOW ARE WE HERE?)
> 
> This fic is SO different from my others. 
> 
> Music is VERY important to me and it fuels this story ENTIRELY. Because of that, each week, I will be giving you a song for inspiration for each chapter, leading up to a playlist at the end of the fic.
> 
> This week's song is "Once Upon Another Time" by Sara Bareilles.
> 
> Also, I will be working on some writing/stylistic type things with this fic and I hope you guys like it! I feel like my writing gets a tiny bit better with each new work. I'm really trying to develop my writing style through these fics and your words of inspiration are super uplifting, so thank you for your loud voices of support.
> 
> You'll never know HOW much I appreciate it.
> 
> So.
> 
> Without further ado....
> 
> Mindless Dreaming.
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

 

****

**"Once Upon Another Time" - Sara Bareilles**

 

**Prologue - Once Upon Another Time**

 

The haziness of the warm air beneath the stage clung to her dress and made her skin stick to the material. It was disorienting and unpleasant, but unavoidable.

 

Thoughts were drifting in and out of her consciousness, memories, wisps of emotions that clouded her better judgment and convinced her that she wasn’t crazy.

 

Her heart was pounding in her chest, reminding her of what she was about to do, warning her that once she did this, there _was_ no going back.

 

She considered, briefly, listening to that large part of her brain that urged her to go change into her usual outfit. It wasn’t too late, she could still start this show the way she had every other show on her tour.

 

But then those moments would flash once more - The noise of the road rushing beneath her bicycle tires, her laughter that drowned out the sound of his teasing, both echoing in her remembrance like a brand on her skin.

 

It was one thing to write about what was in the past and didn’t matter, she knew that. It was something else entirely to lay your heart out on the stage, where anyone could pick it up and crush it in their hand.

 

And thinking back on those summer nights, the twinkling stars in a cloudless sky, the waves crashing into them as he took her breath away over and over…

 

She knew that she didn’t mean _anyone_ when she thought of someone crushing her heart into dust.

 

She knew she was just thinking of _him._

 

The week before had been a fluke. A totally random moment of weakness based on proximity to temptation, and it had opened up an old wound that she had absolutely no hope in closing up once again.  


But if Octavia was right, then she had made a mistake.

 

And she needed to fix it.

 

Her hands smoothed themselves over the hard surface of her guitar, her fingers picking at the stickers that were starting to peel in their old age.

 

This was the only way she knew _how_ to fix it.

 

The roar of the crowd on the other side of the stage was loud and caused her head to spin, her anxiety threatening to overwhelm her completely as she inhaled deep, cleansing breaths.

 

Biting down on her bottom lip, she considered just one last time her desire to do this.

 

“You don’t have to, you know.”

 

Wells’ voice came from behind her, answering her unspoken thought. She turned to face him, and his expression was understanding. He was trying to help, give her a shoulder of support should she choose to back out here at the last minute.

 

She nodded.

 

“I know.” She exhaled shakily and started fidgeting with the strap of her guitar that hung around her neck. “But I want to.”

 

He nodded once, accepting her response and moving closer. Close enough that he was reassuring, but far enough away that she still had room to breathe.

 

“Well… They’re all waiting on you, rockstar.”

 

She couldn’t help but chuckle a little under her breath, turning to look up toward where the noise was coming once more.

 

He was right. They were waiting. And she definitely didn’t want to be in the tabloids tomorrow as some diva pop star who made her loyal fans wait for an exaggerated amount of time.

 

“Yeah, I guess they are.” She sighed and paused to consider her next question, the silence between them lingering, until finally, she found her voice in a whisper. “Do you think he’ll even hear it?”

 

Turning around to look back over her shoulder, she watched Wells’ face morph into a small smile, watched his chest rise and fall with relief at what he thought was an easy question with an easy answer.

 

“I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

 

She looked at him in confusion and he rolled his eyes, but shrugged his shoulder, looking at her with his ever-present look of all-knowing.

 

“Well, I mean... he’s never really been that far away has he?”

 

Flashes again and she thought back to the house and what she’d seen there, years later. The excitement at knowing that maybe, just maybe he still cared. Even after all this time.

 

“Yeah, I guess he hasn't.”

 

Suddenly, the noise in the crowd changed and they started chanting her name, loud and demanding, but in good spirits.

 

“It’s now or never, Clarke. You can’t keep them waiting.”

 

Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back toward the ceiling.

 

_Deep breaths. In. Out. You got this._

 

She opened her eyes and looked back to Wells.

 

“Okay.”

 

Turning around, she walked toward the platform, stopping on the X’s that designated where she should stand.

 

She felt the whir of the metal gears beneath her platform start to turn and gulped down one final breath before looking up at her friend one last time.

 

Wells smiled at her in encouragement, giving her a thumbs up, and suddenly, the whirring grew louder as the platform started to ascend toward the opening in the stage.

 

Right before she appeared above stage, Wells’ smile broadened and he waved goodbye, winking in her direction.

 

She chuckled at his encouragement, the sound echoing through the speakers as her microphone had now been turned on. She didn’t have long to contemplate Wells’ inexplicable giddiness, however, as she heard the cheers of the crowd change from chants into shrieks of excitement. Her head emerged from the opening in the stage, her silhouette projecting onto the white background behind her as smoke billowed up from the machines on the floor.

 

The lights were just as bright as they always were, blinding really, and she had to step all the way to the front of the stage to even see the lights of the cell phones that were recording her every move.

 

Screams were still echoing around her and she couldn’t help but shiver at the contrast of the quiet of the stage.

 

Her show usually started with some big dance number, her band playing behind her. It was a huge production and she spent a _year_ getting it down pat.

 

But now?

 

Standing up here in front of a packed stadium, just her and her old guitar, it felt a little too close to home. Her mind was racing, taking her back. Back to another time, to that summer...

 

To Bellamy.

 

In that moment, she felt like she was 18 again, the feeling of freedom, standing on the stage in that dive bar, pouring her soul into every song.

 

Singing to the guy she loved.

 

The darkness of the audience made it easy to imagine that he was there then too, even though she knew it wasn’t true.

 

Even though she wanted him to be.

 

“Hey guys.” She said into the microphone and the cheers increased in volume.

 

She cleared her throat and smiled, knowing that she really was so lucky to have such support. To be surrounded by so much love.

 

“I know this is different.” Looking out, she could see the people directly in front of the stage lean over and whisper in the ears of their friends. “Probably not what you were expecting.”

 

The cheers were slowly dying down as they all started to listen to what she was saying, realizing that loud music wasn’t about to blare out of the speakers.

 

She strummed a D Major chord on her guitar and sighed deeply, steeling herself for the moment.

 

The noise was had finally faded into nothing, a comfortable silence in its place, the crowd hanging on her every word, her every movement.

 

“But tonight,” She paused, closing her eyes, and _his_ face danced behind her eyelids, smiling and lifting her up. Her laughter uninhibited and free.

 

_I never let go, Clarke._

 

“Tonight I wanted to do something a little different.”

 


	2. That Face of an Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUNDAY FUNDAY IS HEEEEERE!!!!!!
> 
> Who’s ready to get this summer fun started?
> 
> Prepare yourself for heart and romance cause it’s comin at ya!
> 
> This week’s song is “Babel” by Mumford and Sons! Add it to your playlist for the fic!
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**That Face of An Angel**

**”Babel” - Mumford & Sons**

 

The blaring of her alarm clock didn’t even faze her as she blearily opened her eyes and stared at the intricate carvings on her ceiling. She allowed it to continue its screaming for a solid three minutes before she even felt like reaching over to turn it off.

 

It hadn’t mattered in the end, considering as soon as she turned it off, the noise was simply replaced by the sirens of an ambulance outside that was rushing down her street.

 

Sure, it should probably concern her that she had grown so accustomed to hearing the sounds of emergency vehicles on the streets below, but she had lived in New York City her entire life. It was as much a part of the landscape as the tall buildings and the people crowded on street corners selling hotdogs and fake brand name merchandise.

 

Not that she ventured into those areas often.

 

Sighing, she pushed back the silk sheets and down covers that were beginning to border on stifling and freed her bare legs to the cool air conditioning that was piping in from the ceiling above her.

 

_Come on, Clarke. Get up. You’re going to be late._

 

Yeah and then Wells was going to flip his shit.

 

_Again._

 

This time he would probably have good reason, she supposed.

 

It was graduation day, after all.

 

She was usually late for class - That he was used to, but if she was late for graduation…. Well that was a whole different story, wasn’t it?

 

Not that her posh private school had a graduation that was even _remotely_ similar to what one would usually associate with public school graduations. No, the only similarity between her graduation and the ones on TV was the stupid robe.

 

Even those weren’t the same.

 

She glanced at hers from her place in bed to where it was hanging on its velvet hanger on the clothing rack in the corner.

 

It was some version of silk. She supposed she should be _grateful_ for that, as it was probably much more cool than the traditional blend of graduation robe material.

 

Instead, all she could manage was an eye roll.

 

Her phone lit up on her bedside table and she considered ignoring it, not for the first time.

 

_He’ll just keep texting._

 

She huffed and sat up in bed, leaning her back against the fabric of the headboard behind her, as she read the message.

 

**Wells** _You better be awake, Griffin. I will be there in approximately ten minutes to make sure that you actually show up to this thing._

 

She groaned and tilted her head back to look at those stupid ceiling carvings again.

 

A buzz vibrated her hand and she looked down once more.

 

**Wells** _I have coffee._

 

She chuckled at his additional comment and somehow finally found the strength to get out of bed, placing her phone back in its cradle.

 

Eyeing her graduation robe as she passed by on her way to her attached bathroom, she considered what she wanted to do to her hair in ten minutes. Her mother would flip if she was anything _less_ than her best version of presentable.

 

She smirked, considering her options. Braids? Limp from sleep? Top bun?

 

Wait, that last one wouldn’t fit under that stupid cap.

 

_Perhaps it’s best not to kindle her ire just yet. You have the whole summer, after all._

 

Cringing, she opened the drawer to her right and pulled out her curling iron, electing to not fight _that_ particular battle today.

 

Eight minutes, some texturizing spray, and some dry shampoo later, she was ready for her close-up. She would put on makeup closer to the actual ceremony so she wouldn’t have to worry about it fading before she walked across stage.

 

The buzz of her phone brought her back to her bedroom.

 

**Wells** _I’m downstairs. Don’t stall too long or I’ll have to come up and Ms. Spangler hates to be woken up before 10 AM on Saturdays._

 

She snorted. He was right, there. Her late 50’s first floor neighbor was a rich widower who spent her evenings drinking far too much alcohol by herself, and she would definitely chew Wells out if she heard him clanging around in the hallway of the lobby this early in the morning. Even if it was just a short walk to the elevator to get to the penthouse.

 

Walking back to her bathroom, she grabbed her make-up bag from a different drawer of her vanity and gave her hair one last look-over in the mirror.

 

Long, loose curls were the best she could hope for this early in the morning and her mother would at least be _somewhat_ satisfied by her effort.

 

At least she hadn’t made Clarke set up an appointment with a stylist.

 

Small wins.

 

She slid her feet into her Adidas slides and balanced her garment bag over her left arm with her make-up as she tried to text Wells back in her right.

 

**Clarke Griffin** _I’m coming, ass._

 

She tiptoed quietly through the living room and then the foyer of their home, trying not to disturb her mother and Marcus with the sound of her shoes against the marble flooring. Her breathing didn’t return to normal until she was in the elevator headed down to her best friend in the entire world.

 

When the doors opened, she was greeted with the vast, empty hallway of the lobby where she tiptoed some more as she made her way to the buildings entrance. She smiled when she could finally see Wells standing on the sidewalk outside through the glass doors of the building.

 

Opening the door let in a rush of noise from the outside and the cool morning air chilled her bare legs under her Nike shorts. Wells turned at the sound of the door opening and rolled his eyes at her apparently inappropriate state.

 

“You could’ve at _least_ already put on the dress or something, you know.”

 

She chuckled mirthlessly as she walked down the steps toward him, tucking her phone in the pocket of her hoodie and grabbing the coffee from the hand that was struggling to hold both it and his garment bag.

 

“I have a reputation to upkeep, Jaha. Can’t have my mother thinking I’m caving to her way of thought.”

 

He shook his head and held out his arm, offering to drape her bag over the top of his but she shook her head ‘no.’

 

“I got it. But thanks for offering.”

 

“Whatever, Griffin.”

 

They walked in time, then. Their steps in sync after years of walking to school together.

 

She wasn’t going to miss her school and its Gossip Girl-esque daily happenings, but she was going to miss this - Walking with Wells. He was her one constant through childhood into adulthood and starting next fall, he would be gone. Off to some rich Ivy-league.

 

_Won’t you be too?_ A voice reminded her.

 

She tried not to think about her own future. It was too much to ponder this early in the morning.

 

“Who did your mother hire for pictures post-ceremony?”

 

She sighed and took a sip of the coffee before responding.

 

“I don’t know. I’m beyond caring at this point.”

 

Wells laughed and she watched his face light up in humor at her misgivings. He had never complained as much as she had about their lives, their upbringing.

 

Theoretically, she knew they were blessed beyond measure. The wealthy elite of the Upper East Side. She had never struggled for anything in her life beyond the mean girls at her school who whispered ugly things under their breath when she walked into the cafeteria. It was never more than that though, as everyone was afraid of retaliation from her family.

 

Her mother was a wealthy surgeon from old money who remarried a congressman after her father had passed away from cancer when she was a mere eight years old.

 

So while the girls at school may giggle at her unkempt nature and her lack of desire to fit in, they would _never_ outwardly do anything to her. She was safe in that regards.

 

As was Wells.

 

His father was her mother’s very best friend and the senate majority leader - It was how her mother had met Kane.

 

She and Wells had grown up together and while Clarke was resentful of all of her _duties_ as a blue blood daughter, Wells was a nice balm for her soul. He didn’t give his parents any issues but he was still so down to Earth, Clarke couldn’t help being friends with him growing up, in spite of his equally wealthy background.

 

And it was hard to make friends in a city where everyone revered your very presence. You never knew who was genuine or who just wanted to be invited to your birthday parties for the gossip pages.

 

“And I suppose they’ve already sent your belongings to the house for the summer, then?”

 

She groaned at that, having momentarily forgotten about her obligations for the season.

 

“Yeah. Two days ago. The staff have been there for a week prepping the house for our stay. It’s so _stupid._ That big, beautiful house and we _never_ go. I haven’t been there since I was 15.”

 

“Well, your parents have been busy the past few summers. You could’ve come with my family and I.”

 

She gave him a side eye of disdain and he chuckled.

 

“You’re too sweet.” She mumbled. “I’m not saying I wish I could’ve gone the past few years, I’m saying it’s stupid that we own a house that just _sits there._ I hate the Hamptons. You know this.”

 

She could see his head nod in her peripheral vision.

 

“I’m aware. Although, you’ll never be able to educate me as to _why._ It’s a beach, Clarke. Who doesn’t love the beach?”

 

“I would _love_ it if it were just the beach, but we both know it’s so much _more_ than that.”

 

Wells snorted into his coffee, swallowing his sip and then sighing.

 

“You’re right. The beach _and parties_. So many parties. How ever will we survive?”

 

Clarke huffed.

 

“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t have to worry about that, would you, Perfect son? Not all of us are the apple of our parents’ well-trained eyes.”

 

Wells smiled at her teasing.

 

“You know your parents love you. They just… Want to uphold a certain image. Once you’re at Princeton, you won’t have to worry about being under their gaze constantly. You’ll have a little more freedom.”

 

She sighed, wishing that were true.

 

“You know that’s not actually what it will be like, right? It’s Marcus’ alma mater. They will be down all the time to visit for alumni socials and to ‘check in on me.’”

 

She didn’t even bother mentioning what he already knew - That she didn’t even _want_ to go to Princeton.

 

And she definitely didn’t want to be _pre-med._

 

But what she wanted didn’t really matter, in the grand scheme of things.

 

“But you won’t be in their house. It’ll be different, you’ll see.”

 

She felt his hand on her shoulder, his go-to gesture of comfort and mumbled her thanks as they approached the school.

 

 

* * *

  
  


The ceremony was fine, she supposed.

 

She didn’t trip, her mother cried (And only complained about her appearance twice), and the pictures only lasted a blessed twenty minutes.

 

All in all she would call it a victory.

 

After it was over, she had unzipped the stifling silk robe and removed it from her body with great pleasure.

 

That was the third time her mother complained about her appearance - When she realized that Clarke hadn’t, in fact, worn the dress she picked out for her. Instead, she was wearing a sundress that was fitted around her breasts and flared out, ending just above her knees. Thin white straps clung to her shoulders and the tie at the back of the dress held the material together above a cut out that exposed much of her back to the warm summer air.

 

She was going to the _beach._ She wasn’t about to arrive in that green cocktail monstrosity that her mother had picked out for her.

 

Swapping out her heels for thong-strap sandals, she waved goodbye to her parents and hopped into the convertible waiting for them at the corner where the Jaha family attendant had dropped it off.

 

“I can’t believe you pulled a fast one on your mother.” Wells said, eyeing her dress with a grin.

 

She smiled back, pulling out a pair of sunglasses from the backpack she had stowed in his car the day before and leaned back against the leather of his front seat.

 

“Come on, it wouldn’t be a major life event if I didn’t try and disappoint her in _some_ way.”

 

After that, they didn’t talk much. It was almost a two hour drive to the Hamptons and Clarke was fully content to listen to the sound of the music on the radio and feel the breeze of the wind as it messed up her perfectly coiffed hair.

 

They were about twenty minutes out before she spoke again, unable to avoid the inevitable any longer.

 

“I can’t believe we have to be here for a full summer.” She sighed but it was unheard over the rush of the wind. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

 

Wells smiled and his teeth were a bright white in the sunshine.

 

“I imagine what the rest of us will be doing. Parties, talking about our college plans, pretending we don’t drink alcohol at cocktail hour…”

 

She frowned as she leaned back in her seat.

 

“That’s miserable.”

 

The smell of salt was in the air now and she knew it wouldn’t be long until she had to face the prospect of a summer with her parents and their rich friends.

 

“Well. You could always find a place to escape. Some place your parents would never go, I mean. There’s gotta be somewhere.”

 

She pondered that for a moment.

 

“But you’d go with me, right?” She turned her head in his direction and smiled a dazzling smile to convince him.

 

He chuckled and unclenched his hands from the steering wheel, sliding them down so they leisurely rested at the bottom of the wheel.

 

“Sure, Griffin. I guess. But only when I can. I actually plan to adhere to my dad’s itinerary.”

 

She grumbled and turned back toward the side of the car, looking out at the ever flattening, sandy landscape.

 

“Well I don’t. Not if I can help it, at least.” She fidgeted with the material on the edge of her door. “It’s my last summer before I have to sell my soul to the god of medicine. I plan to live it the way I want to. One last time.”

 

Wells laughed a full laugh at that.

 

“You’re not selling your soul to be a doctor.” His expression softened then and she saw him glance briefly in her direction. “Why don’t you just… talk to them? Tell them what you really want to do?”

 

Clarke snorted and buried her face in her hand.

 

“Right. ‘Hey mom, by the way, I don’t plan to go to Princeton this fall. Instead, I’m going to move to Los Angeles and pursue a career in music.”

 

Wells sighed, his mouth turned down in a frown.

 

“Clarke, we can sit down and actually make a plan for you. Something a little more convincing.”

 

She looked at the side of his face.

 

“That’s just it, Wells. There isn’t a _plan_ for something like that. You go, chase the dream, and you either make it or you don’t. It’s not something you can make an _itinerary_ for.” Looking at her lap, she pulled at the bottom of her dress, the fabric soft and worn. “And that’s why I can’t exactly go to my mom about it. You know what her reaction would be.”

 

Wells was silent.

 

Yeah, he knew exactly what her response would be.

 

Clarke’s life had been planned out for her since she was born.

 

Grow up a privileged life in the Upper East Side, attend posh private school, go to an Ivy League to study medicine, and become a surgeon like her mother. Maybe even work at her mother’s hospital.

 

It was her plan.

 

_The_ plan.

 

“You never know.” Wells finally said, his voice low.

 

“Yeah, Wells.” She said, her voice soft and sad. “Yeah I do.”

 

They became quiet again, Clarke watching the world pass by outside their convertible, and it wasn’t long before they passed the sign letting them know they had arrived in the Hamptons.

 

_Here goes nothing._

 

 

* * *

  


The house was just as beautiful as she remembered it. Just as ostentatious, too. They didn’t need a house that size for the three of them and yet, here they were.

 

It was a mansion on the beach. No other way to describe it. As she and Wells pulled into the circular driveway, she took in the big, beautiful windows and the sprawling sections all connected to form the massive manor. They had apparently had the siding redone recently as it was now covered in dark grey shingles instead of the blue she remembered it to be.

 

The one good thing about staying in a house with far too much space was that she could set herself up in a wing of the house as far away from her parents as possible. Then she would only have to see them at parties and meals.

 

“You ready?” Wells asked as they came to a stop.

 

She shook herself out of her thoughts and turned to face him.

 

“Not really. But I’m not really ever going to be ready. So let’s go.” She opened her door and stepped out onto the stone driveway, careful not to close Wells’ car door too harshly behind her.

 

Wells met her around the vehicle, holding his arm out for her to hook hers through. She smiled at his offer of support and together, they walked up the steps to the front door.

 

She reached out, pushing the door open, and peeking inside to see the inside just as pristine as the outside and immaculately furnished.

 

They walked inside and Clarke led them to the back of the foyer into the sitting room, arguably the best part of the whole damn house.

 

The windows here stretched three stories high and took up the entire back wall of the room. It was essentially an unobstructed view to the beach beyond. It was like being in an IMAX theater and watching the waves crash over and over again into the shore.

 

It was gorgeous.

 

Again, Clarke was stricken by how lucky she was.

 

And yet, she couldn’t help but think of how much she would rather just be living in a tiny little cottage by the shore. Somewhere with a front porch where she could sit and drink coffee, watching both the waves and her kids as they played in the water.

 

A home.

 

This was decidedly not that.

 

“Clarke!” She heard from her left and she pulled Wells around to face Marcus as he entered the room from the dining room entrance.

 

“Hey Marcus.” She smiled slightly at his pleased grin and she hesitantly unhooked her arm from Wells to return Marcus’ hug.

 

Marcus wasn’t terrible, honestly. She would be the first to admit that her mother had been in a rough place after her father died. Her mother wasn’t someone who worked with cancer patients, but she still felt like she had failed him. That she couldn’t even save her own husband.

 

Marcus brought out a side of her mother that she had never really seen with her dad. While Abby and Jake had been outwardly “happy” in their marriage, Marcus inspired a smile in Abby that Clarke was sure Jake had never glimpsed.

 

And for that, Clarke couldn’t be _mad_ at Marcus. She could be mad at his politics, for sure. For while he and her mother had never been outwardly hostile toward her about her bisexuality, they had never been outwardly _supportive_ either. Considering Marcus ran a conservative platform, she hadn’t really expected them to be.

 

It had still hurt, nonetheless.

 

He hugged her tightly, holding her close for a second or two before stepping back to greet Wells.

 

“Wells, good to see you as well.” He stepped forward to shake Wells’ hand.

 

Wells nodded.

 

“You too, Marcus.”

 

Marcus clapped his hands together once.

 

“Well! Your mother is going to be thrilled your here in one piece. The season opening party is tonight, so make sure you are dressed and ready to go by 6:30. Wells, will you be riding with Thelonious?”

 

“Actually!” Clarke interjected. “Marcus, Wells and I were wondering if it would be okay if we rode together. Since we’re technically legal adults now.”

 

She smiled a charming smile and Marcus seemed to consider it for a second before answering.

 

“I’m fine with that, I suppose, but you’ll need to check with your mother. You know how she feels about presenting a united front as a family.”

 

Oh, she was more than aware of their little family facade. Had been since she was 13.

 

“I’m sure she won’t mind. It’s just Wells, after all.”

 

Originally, Clarke and Wells’ parents had wanted the two of them to end up together, but when they grew older, it became clear to everyone that neither of them had any romantic interest in the other at all. Still, Abby was good friends with Thelonious and the two families mostly stuck together for appearance sake.

 

“I’m sure you’re right. But ask just to make sure.” Marcus nodded. “Well, if you need me I will be in the sun room. Clarke, I believe they unpacked all of your belongings in the east wing.”

 

She tried and failed to contain her smile at that.

 

Marcus smirked.

 

“I thought that would make you happy. Get going.” He turned and walked out of the door he came from and Clarke wheeled around to face Wells.

 

“Let’s go!” She raced through the house, Wells barely keeping up behind her toward the east wing of the house. This side of the house was littered with windows, bright light streaming into the hallway and the rooms on either side.

 

She finally made it to her favorite room and pushed the double doors open, the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the ocean yet again. From here, she could see the pier far off down the shoreline. Scattered around the room are instruments of all types, but she immediately drifted to the piano in the center of the room, its sleek, black lid already open. She made a mental note to thank whoever tidied up this room for preparing the piano ahead of time. She took her seat at the lid and pushed it open to reveal the keys underneath.

 

She sighed deeply as she felt the smooth, white keys under her fingertips, pressing into Middle C and luxuriating in the sound it made as it reverberated around the room.

 

“See? This was thoughtful of her. She was thinking of you.”

 

Clarke rolled her eyes and slowly started playing the soft, sweet melody of a song she had written a few weeks ago while sitting at her piano back home.

 

“No, she was being strategic. Let’s give Clarke the side of the house with the music room so she will be happy and cooperate with all of the demands we give her this summer.”

 

Wells sighed sadly and plopped down into the armchair next to the window, listening to her play, silent for a little while.

 

“Did you ever tell her about the demo you made?”

 

Clarke bit down on her bottom lip, hesitant to admit that she hadn’t.

 

“No. I used my inheritance for a reason, Wells. She wouldn’t understand”

 

She thought about her dad then. He was the one who had taught her how to read music in the first place. She remembered sitting beside him at this very piano as he taught her the scales and challenged her in music theory.

 

“You keep saying that, but how can you possibly know if you never even ask?”

 

The lilting of the piano continued as she played through her song, unwilling to even consider Wells’ question until he finally spoke again.

 

“What’s that? I don’t recognize this song.” He asked curiously, leaning over and placing his elbows on his knees as he listened.

 

“It’s new.” She admitted. “I composed it a few weeks before graduation.”

 

She played a few more bars before finishing with a flourish and resting her hands.

 

“It’s beautiful. You should play it in public sometime.”

 

She swallowed at the thought. For as much as Clarke wanted to be a musician, she had never actually played for anyone in a public setting. Mostly she played for Wells. Occasionally for her parents and they would applaud politely and tell her how talented she was.

 

Her mother would even brag about her “talents” to her friends and talk about how well-rounded she was.

 

“Right.” Was her response. She knew if she ever wanted to be noticed and perform for a living, she would eventually have to perform for the general public. But if it was never going to happen, why should she put herself through that kind of humiliation?

 

“Just saying.” Wells shrugged, leaning back against the back of the armchair and looking out the window. “We’ve got about two hours before we have to be at that Welcome Back shindig.”

 

He turned back toward her and grinned.

 

“Wanna sing some broadway duets at the top of our lungs?”

 

She smiled a mischievous smile.

 

“Absolutely, Jaha, get your ass over here.”

 

* * *

 

She already had a headache.

 

While her mother had agreed to allow her and Wells to ride together to the party, she hadn’t agreed to allow her much space at the party itself.

 

She was still in her white summer dress, but she had thrown a long cardigan over it and threw on some heels to appease her mother.

 

It was a welcome party, after all. Most everyone in attendance was tired from traveling and were really more concerned with bragging about their charitable contributions since the previous summer.

 

So Clarke was unceremoniously dragged all over the party and introduced to everyone her mother deemed important enough for an introduction.

 

There were so many flowers, the smells were making her nauseous. She tried to hide it from her mother, but eventually, she needed _some_ sort of escape.

 

“Mom.” She said quietly, grabbing her mother’s attention during a lull in her conversation with the mayor of Cincinnati. “I need to grab some water.”

 

“Sure, sweetie.” Abby said, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “Hurry back.”

 

Clarke smiled a tight smile and made her way to the bar in the corner of the party, only to find it was empty.

 

_Was there not a bartender?_

 

She startled when suddenly, someone popped up from behind the bar, a bottle of champagne in hand as he wiped condensation off with a rag.

 

He looked mildly alarmed as well to see her standing there but he did a much better job at hiding it.

 

“Sorry about that. What can I get you?”

 

His voice was _so_ deep and Clarke’s heart picked up at the attractive timbre. It reminded her of a rich chocolate or the very best kind of comfort.

 

But what made her pause longer than a socially acceptable amount of time wasn’t his voice.

 

It was his face.

 

She would be the first to admit that she had never been particularly impressed by men in her life. Sure, she had a boyfriend that one time, but the majority of people she had dated at this point had been women. For some reason, she had been fortunate enough to meet many beautiful women.

 

But never had she seen a man like this one.

 

She knew it was superficial but as she took in his dark skin and the freckles that dusted the T of his nose, she couldn’t bring herself to care. He had dark curly hair and even from her place across the bar, she could tell that it was soft and her fingers were itching to touch it.

 

At this point, she couldn’t be bothered to stop her perusal, eyeing his crisp, white button-up with interest, silently salivating at the contrast it made against the skin of his toned forearms.

 

When her eyes finally rose to his, she noticed that his were decidedly not on hers either.

 

She licked her lips unconsciously and she watched his eyes shoot up to watch the action before he closed them tightly once and reopened them, finally finding her gaze.

 

“Um.” She answered, her voice almost small in her uncertainty. “Just a water, please.”

 

That seemed to shake him from whatever trance he had found himself in as well and she watched his chest deflate slightly and a smirk take over his features.

 

“Not old enough for anything else, then?”

 

And just like that she was put out.

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

He chuckled under his breath.

 

“Nothing, _Princess_ , don’t worry about it.” He held out a glass of water for her to take.

 

Her eyes narrowed.

 

“I’m sorry. I don’t actually _know_ you. Is there something you would like to share?”

 

His eyes slitted marginally and he crossed his arms over his chest. She refused to acknowledge the fact that her gaze fell to watch his muscles flex and the shirt tighten across his chest.

 

“Not at all. Shouldn’t you get back to that?” He raised an eyebrow and nodded in the direction of the mingling.

 

She wanted to correct him. To tell him that she couldn’t care _less_ about being here. That she would much rather be at home at her piano or playing by the window on her guitar.

 

She shouldn’t care at all what this beautiful asshole thought of her and yet she still felt the undeniable urge to make him _like_ her.

 

But he had obviously already made up his mind about her.

 

“You know what? You’re right. I should.”

 

And with that, she turned on her heel and walked back to the party, not to her mother but to Wells who was chatting amicably with some brunette chick in the corner. Once he glanced up and noted her expression, he ditched said chick and came to where she was idly standing by the exit.

 

“What happened? You can’t already be leaving.”

 

She huffed.

 

“I don’t want to stay any longer. I came. I mingled. I did as I was obligated.”

 

He sighed.

 

“You’ve been here an hour. You know she’ll be pissed if you leave.”

 

She knew, of course. But at the moment she really didn’t care. She just wanted to get away from this _place_ and these _people._

 

“I know. So you’ll cover for me, right?”

 

Wells gave her a look that screamed _Sure._

 

“Of course, I will, but you know she won’t buy it.”

 

“It’s fine, I trust you.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek before hurtling herself toward the parking lot. “I’ll take an Uber!”

 

He shook his head and waved.

 

“You do what you have to, Griffin. I’ll text you.”

 

And with his reassurance, she was gone, away from the person she pretended to be at these events.

 

She picked her phone from the pocket of her cardigan as she took it off, exposing her shoulders to the summer sun once more and opened the Uber app.

 

No sooner had she pressed the button to call for her ride when the deep voice from before interrupted her peaceful solitude.

 

“Leaving so soon, Princess?”

 

She jumped and turned around to face him. He was leaning against the fence that surrounded the massive back yard of the house, his phone also in hand.

 

She glared at him spitefully.

 

“That’s not my name.”

 

He smirked.

 

“So what _is_ your name?”

 

She raised her chin and crossed her arms beneath her breasts, watching as he predictably glanced down at the action, and suddenly she felt like she had some sort of upper hand.

 

“You know, you’ll have to excuse me, but I don’t usually give my name to people who routinely insult me for no reason.”

 

His eyebrow raised again as he pushed off of the fence with his shoulder and put his phone in his pants pocket as he started to walk toward her.

 

“You know,” He started, his eyes deep with some sort of emotion. “For a _Princess_ you sure do have a fire about you, don’t you?”

 

She clenched her jaw when he stopped about two feet away from her, hands in his pockets, eyeing her with interest.

 

“You know, for an _asshole_ with presumption issues, you sure do seem to be interested in invading my personal space.”

 

His smirk returned and she wanted to reach up and wipe it from his face. In what way, she didn’t want to admit.

 

“Well maybe I think you’re interesting. I’ve never met one of your type who actually acknowledges the help.”

 

She refused to back down, stepping closer.

 

“So you have me all figured out then, do you?” She questioned, her hand coming up to poke him in the chest.

 

His hand moved quickly, trapping hers in his and holding her in place.

 

“I know you, Princess. You’re all the same. Pick up the bartender, let him take you home and fuck you, and then escape, never to acknowledge them at parties again.”

 

She snorted and pushed him back a bit with her palm, her hand still encased in his.

 

“Hardly. You might be hot, but I have standards, at least.” She continued to glare.

 

He grinned then.

 

“So you’ve thought about then?”

 

“I’m leaving.” She growled, pushing away from him and walking to the driveway where she was waiting before.

 

“So soon?” His voice followed her and she ignored it. “We were just getting to know each other.”

 

She saw the Uber approaching and flagged it down, turning quickly toward the man who was still standing there, smiling a self-assured smile at her back.

 

“If I never see you again, it will be too soon, asshole.” She turned around and opened the car door, almost throwing herself inside.

 

“I’ll be seeing you, Princess!” He called just as she shut the door and collapsed back against the seat.

 

As they pulled away from the curb, she looked up to see the man still watching her car leave.

 

She silently mourned the fact that the most handsome man she’d ever met turned out to be the most judgmental man she’d ever met as well.

 

He didn’t even know who she _was_ , just assumed she would be like the other elite at the party simply because she was in attendance.

 

Pausing for a moment, she considered the fact that she too had the same opinions about the people at that party, her mother included.

 

Was she really any worse than he was, then?

 

Groaning, she admitted to herself that no, she wasn’t.

 

She made a mental note to actually try and be nicer to the people she had to meet this summer.

 

Maybe there were some other people out there who were like her.

 

* * *

 

It had only been two days when her mother made her attend another stupid fucking party.

 

“Better get used to it, Griffin. The summer has only just started.” Wells teased on the way there.

 

This party was no better than the last, but she _did_ at least attempt to be nicer to all the people she met.

 

“Clarke, sweetheart, this is Sinclair. He’s an engineer working here in the Hamptons.” She smiled slightly at the man in question. He did at least look more genuinely kind than the other people here. “And this is his daughter, Raven.”

 

Her mother held her hand out toward the girl in question and Clarke was immediately stricken by how pretty the other girl was. Her hair was up in a ponytail out of her face and she was wearing a flowy white jumpsuit with spaghetti straps.

 

“Hi there. Raven.” She introduced herself, holding her hand out for Clarke to shake.

 

Clarke smirked. Obviously this girl didn’t appreciate other people doing her introductions.

 

“Clarke.” She returned the handshake with the first _real_ smile she’d experienced in _days._

 

Abby cleared her throat, only a little miffed that this Raven girl had taken away some of her thunder.

 

“Raven is studying aerospace engineering at MIT!”

 

Clarke vaguely registered her mother had continued speaking, but she and Raven were also privately grinning at one another from across the small circle of people.

 

It took about thirty minutes for her to escape her mother and approach the bar, once again ordering a glass of water.

 

She thought back to the man she had met at the party earlier in the week and her face flushed hot as she recalled the attraction she had felt, in spite of his rudeness.

 

“That _is_ water, right? Not trying to sneak some vodka, are ya?” A familiar voice came up beside her and she turned to see the Raven girl from earlier.

 

She grinned.

 

“Nope. Just water.”

 

Raven smirked a friendly smile.

 

“Just checking. You were turning awful red there for a second.”

 

Clarke snorted and rolled her eyes.

 

“Yeah, well, just remembering the encounter I had with the last bartender at one of these things. Real asshole, that one.”

 

Raven raised an eyebrow in question.

 

Clarke hastened to explain.

 

“He was just very judgmental. Made assumptions about me that pissed me off.”

 

Raven looked thoughtful for a second before she broke out into a grin.

 

“Oh? Did you catch his name?”

 

Clarke shook her head.

 

“No. I escaped before I could endure too much damage. You know the type though. Handsome. Broody. Full of himself.”

 

Raven almost choked on her drink that she was sipping.

 

“Actually, yeah, I do know the type. More than you know.” She turned to face Clarke head on. “You know, I don’t usually meet people at these parties that I genuinely enjoy talking to. You’re a breath of fresh air, Clarke Griffin.”

 

Clarke laughed.

 

“I understand that completely. Honestly? I probably owe that asshole from the other day. He made me realize that maybe I’m just a little too judgy at these things too. I vowed to be more open to meeting new people. Not everyone here can be all that bad right? I’m not that bad. And now I’ve met you. You’re not that bad. And Wells. That’s three people, already!”

 

Raven belly laughed at her long explanation and nodded her head in agreement.

 

“It’s all true.” She eyed Clarke with interest. “Well. Maybe the next time you see him, you should thank him.”

 

Clarke barked a small laugh of disbelief.

 

“Absolutely not. I hope I never see that man again.”

 

Raven smiled a small smile and looked out toward the crowd in attendance.

 

“Yeah, well, you never know.” Her brow furrowed for a second before turning back to Clarke. “So, I know we just met and all, but I kind of like you. We should hang out this summer. Like I said, there aren’t a lot of people I can tolerate at these parties. Want to do dinner tonight?”

 

Clarke thought about that for a second before realizing that she actually kind of wanted to. She couldn’t remember the last time she met someone who made her want to make a new friend other than Wells.

 

“You know what? That actually sounds nice.”

 

Raven grinned.

 

“Cool. What’s your number? I’ll text you the address.”

 

Clarke recited her number and they saved one another’s contacts in their phones.

 

If her friendship with Raven worked out, maybe she _would_ thank that guy the next time she saw him.

 

* * *

 

She walked across the parking lot, her conversation with Wells as she got ready for dinner still lingering in her head.

 

“So let me get this straight… You’re going out to eat with one of the girls you met at one of your mother’s parties… voluntarily?”

 

“Yes, Wells, it’s not _that_ novel of a concept.”

 

“Actually…” She had slapped him on the shoulder for that. “So is this like.. a date? Just a friend dinner?”

 

Clarke had shrugged and picked out a coral colored summer dress with a lace overlay at her breasts and was adjusting the waist.

 

“Just friend dinner for now, I think. Maybe could be a date eventually? I don’t know, she seemed nice. Just wanted to have someone else to talk to this summer, besides _you._ ”

 

He threw a pillow at the back of her head.

 

Now, as she walked across the sidewalk to the address Raven had texted her, she found she wasn’t really _giddy_ nervous the way she usually was before dates. Instead, she was just excited for new company.

 

It was some little, beachfront seafood shanty and as she opened the door, the smell of seafood wafted back at her, strong but _delicious._

 

“Clarke!” She heard her name across the restaurant and looked up to see the woman in question waving her down from a table at the window.

 

She walked toward the table and Raven stood to greet her, pulling her in unexpectedly by the shoulder for a quick hug.

 

“Glad you could make it!” The other girl greeted before the two of them sat.

 

“Of course. I was so happy to actually meet someone else on this little parade of show ponies that I could talk to.”

 

Raven snorted into her glass of water before placing it back on the table.

 

“I’ll be honest, I usually bow out of those things, but Sinclair was insistent on this one. He wanted me to meet someone from NASA.”

 

Clarke’s eyebrows furrowed as she watched the other girl flag down their server.

 

“Wait. Sinclair? You call your dad by your last name?”

 

Raven shook her head and smiled in thanks at the server who had brought them two menus.

 

“Oh Sinclair isn’t my dad. I mean, he basically is, but I’m adopted. My last name is Reyes.” She shrugged. “My parents died when I was twelve. I was pushed around from foster to foster for about six months when I ended up with Sinclair. He recognized how much I loved science and really encouraged me to pursue something with it. He was the first and only person who ever cared about _me_ and not the paycheck he got for keeping me.”

 

Clarke’s heart clenched a little at the thought of a pre-teen Raven being passed off from horrible home to horrible home.

 

“He adopted me when I turned 16. We decided on it together. I just thought it was time. He truly was a father to me in every way. He wanted me to be his daughter. Not just because he loves me, which I mean, duh, but apparently he wanted to be able to make me his beneficiary. I was little hesitant to make everything like - Official, official but it was what made him happy. To know I was going to be taken care of if anything ever happened to him.”

 

Clarke felt herself start to tear up at Raven’s story and even though it was a little heavy for first dinner talk, she felt like she had known Raven for years already.

 

“So!” Raven said, grinning. “Enough about me! I want to know more about the enigmatic Clarke Griffin.”

 

Clarke felt her confusion set in.

 

“Enigmatic? You really think I’m enigmatic?”

 

Raven smiled a secret smile.

 

“Let’s just say I’ve heard a lot about you already.”

 

Clarke groaned and let her head fall on the table top.

 

“Oh _God,_ don’t tell me. And don’t listen to any of it.” She sighed. “Well, since you were so forthcoming, I guess I can be too. I’m the daughter of Upper East Side blue bloods, a surgeon and a scientist. My dad died when I was 8 and my mom eventually remarried one Marcus Kane, senator to New York. Mom wants me to be surgeon and I have my acceptance all worked out for Princeton in the fall.”

 

Raven’s eyebrow lifted as her story went on.

 

“Interesting. So what is it _you_ want to do, exactly?”

 

“What do you mean?” Clarke asked, sipping on her water.

 

“Well, you said _your mother_ wants you to be a doctor. What do _you_ want to be?”

 

Clarke shrugged, her finger running across the lip of her glass.

 

“It doesn’t matter what I want to be. My parents aren’t exactly the kind of supportive that Sinclair is for you.”

 

Raven eyed her for a little while, leaning back in her seat to stare at her with interest. Clarke wanted to say it made her feel uncomfortable, but truthfully it didn’t, and she just gave her an amused stare back.

 

She wasn’t sure what it was about Raven but she had a feeling they could end up being fast best friends.

 

“Huh. Well, alright then. So what do you like to eat, seafood wise?”

 

And with that, they moved on to less serious topics.

 

It was a delightful dinner, both the food and the company, and Clarke found herself not wanting the night to end.

 

“So, know any good places to get a drink around here?”

 

Raven tsked and turned to look at her.

 

“Now, now, Griffin, you’re not asking me to break the law for you, are you? Cause I have to have a perfect record for my NASA application.”

 

Clarke laughed and pulled open the door to the restaurant that would lead them out to the parking lot.

 

“No, of course not. I just need somewhere chill to hang out this summer where my mother can’t find me. And considering that you and Sinclair actually _live_ here, I thought maybe you could show me a place to go.”

 

Raven looked at her thoughtfully, almost as if she was measuring what she was about to say before a sly grin took over her face.

 

“Alright, Griffin. I got you. Let’s go.”

 

Clarke had ridden an Uber to the restaurant so she hopped into the passenger side seat of Raven’s Jeep Wrangler and held onto the tumble bar as she whipped out of the parking lot and onto the road.

 

“So where are you taking me?” She asked once they were on their way. “You’re not planning to murder me and dump my body somewhere along the highway are you? Because I’m getting the vibe that we’re getting along well so far.”

 

Raven wiggled her eyebrows and glanced at her quickly before returning her attention to the road.

 

“Nope. No murders tonight, Griffin.” She paused and thought for a second. “Well, actually, I can’t _really_ guarantee that, but no, _I_ don’t plan to murder _you_.”

 

Clarke laughed, but was inwardly confused by the joke. She shrugged and watched the landscape pass by as they drove down the road.

 

It was a decent drive. About twenty minutes later, they pulled into another parking lot. This one was a bar, it appeared. It wasn’t too terribly small but also not imposing and it had a killer view of the beach with an outdoor patio.

 

When they got out of the Jeep, she inhaled the salt in the air and smiled at the group of rowdy people sitting outside under the string lights and howling at something inside the bar.

 

“What’s going on?” She asked and pointedly nodded in the group’s direction.

 

Raven looked in the indicated direction and chuckled.

 

“Oh, it’s just Open Mic Night. It’s pretty popular around here.”

 

Clarke started breathing just a little faster at that. An Open Mic Night?

 

Briefly, she contemplated herself participating in something like that. Just a cool, breezy intro into the world of public performance. But as she entered the bar and looked at the guy standing on stage, singing into the microphone, she was suddenly overwhelmed with nerves at just watching him perform.

 

“Come on, we’ll get you something to drink. A nice virgin cocktail.” Raven said, winking in her direction.

 

She pulled Clarke to the front of the bar where a large bar top extended from one end of the room to other. A variety of colored bottles littered the glass shelves on the wall behind it and there were TVs mounted that were currently turned off, she guessed in respect for the performers.

 

“Miller!” Raven called, waving the bartender over in their direction.

 

The man she called grinned and waved, letting her know he’d be there in just a second.

 

“That’s Miller.” Raven said, pointing at the attractive man at one end of the bar. “Nice guy. His dad owns the place. He mostly runs it these days. Well him and- Oh! Speak of the devil and he shall appear.”

 

She was smiling a brilliant smile at someone over Clarke’s shoulder so Clarke turned to see who she was silently communicating with.

 

Only, when she turned around, she almost fell off her bar stool.

 

Strong hands reached out and grabbed her around her waist and shoulder, holding her upright and keeping her from falling to the floor.

 

“Woah there.” A deep, gruff voice said.

 

Instantly, her pulse raced and she could feel her blood pulsing behind her ears.

 

Her eyes looked up and instantly, she was alert and her breath left her in a _whoosh_.

 

It was _him_.

 

His eyes widened in recognition too before he released his hold on her and stepped back.

 

“Bellamy! This is my friend, Clarke. We met at that party Sinclair dragged me to today. Clarke, this is Bellamy.”

 

She could hear Raven, theoretically, and understand what she was saying but the words sounded hazy in her own ears, uncertain how _any_ of this was even _real._

 

“Uh-“ She stuttered, unable to come up with a single intelligent thought in that moment.

 

Bellamy’s eyes were scanning her up and down, almost like he was trying to figure out if she was in fact _her._

 

_Yeah, it’s me, asshole. The woman you insulted at that party that one time without taking the time to get to know._

 

“Helllloooo? Are you two alright?” Raven asked.

 

Clarke turned to give her new friend her attention but found a shit-eating grin instead.

 

Wait. What?

 

“Raven, I need to talk to you.” The man - Bellamy, she mentally corrected - Grabbed Raven by the upper arm and pulled her away into some sort of back room and Clarke was left staring at their retreating figures, dumbfounded.

 

“Hey there. Where’d Raven go?” A voice came from behind her.

 

She turned in her seat to find the man from earlier, Miller, had finally made his way to their end of the bar.

 

“Um.. B-Bellamy? Bellamy took her?” She said and she hadn’t meant for it to come out sounding like a question, but she was still so confused by the whole thing.

 

Miller looked confused too.

 

“Huh. Well, okay. I’m Miller.” He stuck his hand out in greeting. “Who might you be?”

 

Clarke recovered, her grin returning somewhat.

 

“Clarke Griffin.”

 

She shook his hand and was thrilled to find that he seemed very pleasant.

 

Much more pleasant than _Bellamy._

 

“Well, what can I get you, Clarke?”

 

“Just a water please, thanks.”

 

Miller nodded and grabbed a glass from below the bar.

 

“Sure thing.”

 

At that moment, Raven and Bellamy re-entered the bar, Raven at the lead this time, her grin still in place.

 

“So. As I was saying. Clarke, this is Bellamy.” She gestured between the two of them.

 

Clarke decided to be the bigger man and held her hand out for him to shake.

 

He cleared his throat and clasped her hand in his.

 

“Good to see you again, Princess.”

 

Clarke’s eyes narrowed distastefully as Raven kicked Bellamy in the shin.

 

He cursed and jumped, shaking his leg out, easing the soreness of the kick.

 

“I mean, _Clarke._ ” He corrected and Clarke turned to look at Raven.

 

“You _knew._ ”

 

Raven held her hands up in a gesture of innocence.

 

“Listen, I didn’t _know_ really. I kind of made some conclusions based on what you said at the party, but I didn’t _know._ Besides, I like you and I like _him_ too, unfortunately, so I need the two of you to get past whatever little spat you had and get along.”

 

Miller seemed to pick up what was being said at that moment because he slammed his hand against the bar top and caused them all to jump slightly.

 

“You’re the girl! From the party!”

 

Bellamy reached over and smacked Miller upside the head. Clarke felt herself blush at his insinuation that he had already heard about her.

 

From _Bellamy._

 

“So, now that _that’s_ over with, Clarke and I would like to commence with our evening. Be gone with you!”

 

Miller chuckled, delivering Clarke’s water and something else to Raven before moving on to other customers.

 

Bellamy ducked under the opening at the end of the bar so he was standing behind it and approached them from his new, safer distance.

 

“So is this like… a date then?” He asked, his question seemingly directed at either of them.

 

“Nah.” Raven leaned over, patting Clarke on the back. “I mean, you’re hot as _fuck_ , Griffin, but I’ve got my eye on this realtor in town.” She winked at Clarke and took a sip of her drink.

 

Clarke laughed.

 

“Understood. It’s okay, I need some friends in this place besides Wells. This town is rough enough without fucking up one of the only friendships I have with a normal person.”

 

Raven chuckled and nodded.

 

“Yeah, I get that. Don’t you, Bellamy?”

 

She looked over to find Bellamy standing, jaw clenched, as he cleaned a glass and placed it back below the bar.

 

“Sure. I’m gonna go work.”

 

Clarke watched him walk away to help a customer, the muscles in his back moving under his shirt as he made drinks.

 

She could sit here all night and just watch him work, staring at the smooth dark skin of his forearms.

 

“He’s single, you know.”

 

She turned swiftly in her seat to eye a grinning Raven.

 

“No, thank you. Think I’ll find someone who doesn’t make rush judgements about people with money.”

 

Raven shrugged.

 

“Whatever you want, Griff. But remember, you were the one earlier who told me that you realized that you had been doing the exact same thing.” She smiled. “And then you learned from him and met me! Look what a great influence his stupidity has been already!”

 

Clarke tried to fight it but she found herself laughing, her eyes moving, without her permission,  back to the man in question, watching him as he smiled and interacted with patrons at the bar.

 

“Yeah.” She sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand cut. 
> 
> End meet cute!!
> 
> This is my first long fic where bellarke don’t already know one another and I’m already having a good time!
> 
> I hope this story makes you long for the beach and the summer sun. 
> 
> Let me know your thoughts and guesses for the plot in the comments! I LIVE for them. 
> 
> Also, follow me on twitter @mallidaywrites for writing updates!
> 
> So who’s ready for more already??
> 
> Until next Sunday...
> 
> -Mally


	3. Wonderstruck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Does Sunday Funday dance*
> 
> But seriously. Does anyone else look forward to Sunday the way I do?
> 
> This chapter, you get TWO songs for your "Mindless Dreaming" playlist:
> 
> 1) "Citadel" by Anna Nalick
> 
> and 
> 
> 2) "City" by Sara Bareilles (Clarke's song)
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**Wonderstruck**

 

**“Citadel” by Anna Nalick**

**Clarke’s Song -  “City” by Anna Nalick**

 

****

  
  


Coming back to her parents’ mansion after being in that seaside bar was like coming back home from summer camp. From being surrounded by people you could call friends to feeling empty and aching for the fun that your camp experience brought you.

 

If anything, it made Clarke that much more desperate to go back.

 

Hell, if anything, she needed to actually learn what the bar was  _ called _ so she could take an Uber there, in the least.

 

She quietly shut the door behind her, hoping against all hopes that her parents were snuggled away in their beds, cringing as her footsteps echoed on the hardwood floors

 

She made her way to the kitchen to grab a quick snack to take to her wing of the house. Apparently, sitting around in a bar all night made you hungry.

 

Who knew?

 

Except, when she rounded the corner to the kitchen, the refrigerator door was open, the bright light of the inside beaming as it stretched out across the shadows of the dark kitchen.

 

She could’ve turned around and made an escape, but she had been so surprised, she hesitated, and by then, Marcus had already seen her standing in the doorway.

 

“Oh good, you’re home! We were worried.”

 

She cleared her throat and entered the room. No point in standing in one place now that she’d been spotted. 

 

She still wanted her snack.

 

“I told you, I was with Raven. I thought mom would be okay with that.”

 

Marcus nodded, turning around to pour milk into the bowl of cereal sitting on the island behind him.

 

“Oh, she was definitely okay with it. But you know her, once it gets past 9 o’clock, she starts to fret that you’ve been murdered and left in a ditch somewhere.”

 

Clarke rolled her eyes and moved to the basket of treats on the other side of the kitchen, grabbing a Little Debbie cake and facing her step-dad. Maybe she could get out of this quickly if she kept her answers short and to the point.

 

“Well, you can happily report that I’m home. And in one piece, at that.”

 

She started to walk toward the doorway that would lead her back to the foyer of the house when Marcus’ voice stopped her.

 

“She means well, you know that, don’t you?” His tone was soft and cautious. Wise, really, as he knew the tensions between the two of them well.

 

Turning around, she tried to keep her facial expressions as measured and even as possible.

 

“I know that.”

 

Marcus hummed, his hand lifting the spoon from his cereal to take one crunchy bite.

 

“Just checking.” He said as he swallowed. “I know that you aren’t as…” He paused, considering his words. “ _ Happy _ with your college plans. I think-” He sighed. “I think if you’d talk to her about it, she might understand more than you’d think.”

 

And with those words, he nodded once more and retreated from the kitchen to the opposite direction, toward his wing of the house that he shared with Abby.

 

In the meantime, Clarke stood there a beat longer.

 

_ Would _ her mother understand? Was it even  _ possible? _

 

Shaking her head, she brought herself back to the moment, turning on her heel to scurry toward her music room for a little late night writing on her guitar.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


The next morning, it was a double ping on her phone that woke her. She blearily sat up in her bed and glared at the nightstand. Her phone was still lit up and she could see that she had two text messages.

 

Sighing, she rubbed her fists in her eyes wearily. 

 

The light streaming in through the windows would have awoken her eventually - The one downside to the east-facing wing of the house.

 

Groggily, she picked up the phone from its charging cradle and laid it on the white down comforter, her arms still too tired to actually hold it up.

 

**Wells** _ Get up, Griffin. I’ll be there in 30 minutes with breakfast, but remember we have that rowing tournament at 11. Don’t waste away in your bed and fail to mentally prepare yourself for the torment. _

 

She groaned and let her head fall back against the cushy headboard in dread. She  _ had  _ forgotten about the rowing tournament. Never would she understand the desire to sit around and watch rich people row back and forth in boats all day while everyone else sipped cocktails at an hour that was far too early.

 

She sighed and swiped over to the second new text message.

 

**Raven** _ Morning, Sunshine! Thanks for hanging out last night, we all had a great time. You should make it a regular occurrence this summer! _

 

Her breath hitched somewhat as she registered that Raven said “we” all had a great time.

 

_ We. _

 

Her brain was struggling to remind her that going down this road was a very  _ bad _ idea.

 

_ Bellamy Blake _ was a  _ very _ bad idea.

 

Their first meeting hadn’t gone well. 

 

He was a total asshole and she had responded in kind.

 

But then last night happened, and it was like she got a glimpse of a  _ different  _ Bellamy. One completely unlike the Bellamy she had witnessed at her parents’ party.

 

Then again, it made sense. She was never particularly thrilled to be at those things either. It definitely couldn’t be any better  _ working _ at one. 

 

_ And  _ he was right, to boot. She knew plenty of people her age at those parties who would sleep with someone they deemed hot enough, no matter how much money they made, only to abandon them the next morning and treat them like trash at the next event.

 

He wasn’t  _ wrong _ .

 

He was just wrong about  _ her. _

 

Maybe she had made him see that the night before, see that perhaps he had judged her too quickly.

 

And maybe she had judged  _ him _ too quickly as well.

 

They had both reacted above and beyond what they should have that day, but that was what made him so  _ interesting _ to her.

 

For whatever reason, she  _ wanted _ him to like her, and when he hadn’t, she had struck back harshly.

 

Last night, she had longingly watched him interact with his friends, wishing  _ she  _ was the object of his grins and pointed jabs. 

 

Instead, the two of them mostly ignored one another while she stared at him from across the bar, pathetically. 

 

Occasionally, she would find him staring back at her and she would quickly look away, too timid to actually maintain any sort of meaningful connection.

 

And yet, when it was time to leave, all she could think about was how much she didn’t  _ want _ to. The bar was still going to be open for a few more hours, so why couldn’t they stay, she’d asked.

 

_ “Because I’m not about to get on your parents’ bad side when we’re just now becoming friends. There will be other nights for you to sit at the bar and undress Bellamy with your eyes.” _

 

_ “I wasn’t undressing him with my eyes!” _

 

_ “Hey, whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night, Griffin. Let’s go.” _

 

Raven had made sure she was home at a reasonable hour, so her parents couldn’t be too upset with her this morning.

 

It was thoughtful of her but really, she had just wanted to stay at the bar.

 

_ Not  _ to undress Bellamy with her eyes, of course. But for… Other reasons.

 

Her phone dinged and made her jump in her bed.

 

**Wells** _15 minutes._

 

Grumbling, she flung back her comforter and walked to her dresser, pulling out the first underwear she came across and moved to her closet.

 

It was ridiculous, the amount of clothing she had in her closet for it to not even be her primary residence.

 

Still, she blindly grabbed for a pair of white linen pants and a black tank top. She would just jazz it up with a pretty necklace and nice sandals to appease her mother.

 

When she walked into her en suite and looked in the mirror, she visible cringed at her own reflection. 

 

_ Okay, so definitely have to shower. Wells will just have to wait. _

 

She stepped into the massive shower and at least  _ tried _ to take a fast shower, scrubbing the old makeup off her face from the night before and conditioning her long blonde hair.

 

A few minutes later, she flicked off the hair dryer and heard a voice from behind the bathroom door.

 

“I said thirty minutes, Griffin. Even gave you a fifteen minute warning.”

 

She rolled her eyes and fluffed her hair out in the mirror, clipping some of it back so she could curl the hair underneath.

 

“I need ten minutes. It’s not like we’re going to be late. You just like to be ridiculously early to these things.”

 

Vaguely, she could hear him mumble something to himself and she chuckled. He knew she was right.

 

Exactly ten minutes later, she stepped out of the bathroom, hair curled and pinned back, clothes perfectly in place, a long chain dangling between her breasts with a tiny charm at the end.

 

Wells eyebrows rose.

 

“Well, you definitely look  _ presentable. _ Not sure your mother will agree with that.” He nodded toward her tank top that definitely showed off more cleavage than was strictly necessary for a rowing tournament.

 

Secretly, she admitted that she may have tried a little harder to look nice today just in case she met anyone… interesting… at the fundraiser.

 

You never knew who would show up to those things.

 

“Yeah, well, she’ll get over it. Ready to go?”

 

He tossed a bag in her direction and she caught it, opening it up to peer inside.

 

“Oooooo apple fritter! You spoil me!” She grinned, reaching inside and breaking off a piece of the delicious treat to shove it in her mouth unceremoniously.

 

“I know. Let’s go.” He headed in the direction of her door and she grinned at his retreating figure.

 

Walking up to her bed, she picked up her phone from where she’d left it on top of her covers. When she swiped it open she noticed that she’d never written Raven back.

 

She pondered her reply, not wanting to seem too anxious.

 

**Clarke** _ Thanks for letting me tag along last night. I had a good time as well. Maybe I’ll see you all again soon. _

 

“Clarke! Let’s GO!” Wells’ voice called loudly from the end of the hallway.

 

She sighed and followed him out the door.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


When they made it to the rowing tournament, Clarke immediately sought out her mother, determined to make her appearance and then disappear into the crowd.

 

Abby was chatting with some of her friends by a bartop table next to the partition leading to the entrance for the boats. 

 

“Okay. I’m gonna go talk to my mom. Don’t go too far. I need someone to help me escape her ten minutes from now.”

 

Wells chuckled.

 

“You’re ridiculous.”

 

She nodded and set off for her mother’s group of friends like a woman on a mission.

 

When she was a few feet away, her mother noticed her approach, lifting her head to see her, eyes immediately narrowing on her top in disapproval.

 

“Oh, Clarke! There you are sweetheart.” She left the small group of people to hug her daughter and whisper in her ear. “We will talk about that wardrobe choice later.”

 

When she pulled away, she was still smiling a bright, fake smile and Clarke quickly set hers to match. The sooner she finished this little charade, the sooner she could get back to Wells and away from her mother.

 

“Hello there, Clarke! Always so good to see you!” One of the women supplied.

 

“Oh, you as well, of course. It’s so nice to be back here for the summer.” She lied, straight face in tact.

 

She hated this whole song and dance.

 

“Are you ready for Princeton in the fall?”

 

Of course her mother had already told these women about her college plans. It was part of their silent  _ war. _

 

Whose family was the most successful? Whose child was the most successful?

 

“Absolutely!” She lied again. “Can’t wait.”

 

After that, they slowly forgot she was there and she was able to stand quietly, silently waiting for her “out” to present itself.

 

“Finn!” Her mother called suddenly. “Finn, come join us!”

 

She looked up, bored, at the newcomer.

 

He was around her age, she guessed. Maybe a little older. Long, floppy hair that fell limply against his head. 

 

_ Had no one told this poor guy that the year 2000 was almost two decades ago? _

 

“Finn, this is my daughter, Clarke. The one I was telling you about.” Her mother introduced.

 

Clarke faked a closed mouth smile and reached out her hand for him to shake. His hands were cold and clammy and she mentally vomited at the unpleasant feeling.

 

“Why don’t the two of you go chat? Maybe grab some hors d’oeuvres?”

 

_ Oh God. _

 

Was her mother trying to set her up?

 

Before she could even contemplate the horror of that thought, Finn had crossed the group of people and hooked his arm through hers, leading her away from her mother and her nosey friends.

 

“So, Clarke, your mother tells me that you’re planning to go to Princeton this fall. I considered Princeton myself once before deciding to go to Harvard.”

 

Ten minutes passed and she had been listening to this narcissist talk about himself for the entire time. She honestly hadn’t thought it possible for one person to be so completely self-involved, and yet, as she found herself mindlessly looking around the party at the variety of pastel colored outfits, he still continued to babble. Completely unaware of her boredom and the way she was discreetly trying to remove his arm from her person.

 

Suddenly, he stepped closer to her, far too involved in her personal space, his arm unhooking from hers and wrapping around her waist. It was heavy and uncomfortable, and if he was looking for her attention, he now had it.

 

“So what do you like to do in the evenings?” His voice had dropped low and it was clear that he was going for something seductive. “Cause I have my new sailboat docked just a couple of miles down the shoreline.” 

 

He was far too close now and she stepped back, trying to get away from him, but he stepped toward her again, his hand coming up to graze her shoulder.

 

She flinched.

 

“No, thank you. I’m not interested.”

 

He smirked.

 

“Sure, you’re not. Playing hard to get are we?” Came his cocky reply and Clarke was beginning to worry that she was going to have to make a scene. It was then that she looked around and realized that over the course of their conversation, he had somehow guided them further away from the party and there were very few people around.

 

“Or maybe she’s just not interested.” A voice spoke up behind her.

 

She tried to stop herself from instinctively reacting to his deep tone, but failed spectacularly. She felt him just behind her, the heat emanating from his body a comfort to her as she shrugged Finn’s hand from her shoulder.

 

Finn’s eyes finally left her and flickered up to Bellamy who had just stepped in front of her, between the two of them. He wasn’t the tallest man she’d ever met, but he  _ was _ taller than Finn and that, combined with his deep voice and looming figure, definitely made Finn pause.

 

“I’m sorry, do we know you, busboy?” Finn said, his tone sharpe and demeaning.

 

Clarke stepped forward, fully intending to claw the other man’s eyes out but she felt Bellamy’s hand lift up to stop her, his palm pressed against her stomach, pushing her backwards.

 

“No, you don’t, but you _ will _ if you don’t get going. Unless you want Abby Griffin to know what you were up to in this dark corner.”

 

Finn’s eyes flashed angrily and he turned up his nose to Bellamy before leaving and heading back in the direction of the party.

 

She finally felt like she could breathe again, her breath leaving her in a whoosh just as Bellamy turned around, his eyes finding hers, soft and understanding.

 

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly, his hand coming up to rest against her upper arm, rubbing circles into her flesh with his thumbs.

 

“Um I-Yes.” She stuttered out.

 

She felt extremely off-kilter. A combination of the incident with Finn and just being  _ near  _ Bellamy. His presence alone made her want to nuzzle into his side and inhale, the comfort he offered was intoxicating and completely unexpected.

 

“Come on, let’s get you back to the party.”

 

He walked her back to the throng of things, and as soon as they entered the threshold of people, her eyes caught Wells’ who was frantically looking around the room. He sighed with relief when he spotted her and headed in her direction.

 

“If he bothers you again, let me know, Princess, I’ll take care of it.”

 

She shuddered at his words, knowing,  _ understanding _ that he truly meant what he said. His gaze sought out her own and she looked back, nodding her acquiesce. 

 

“Clarke!” She heard a voice approaching their little bubble of solitude.

 

She turned to see Wells, a worried look on his face, his green tie completely messed up, a sign of his anxiety.

 

“Are you okay? Where were you? You said you’d need rescuing and then I couldn’t find you anywhere!” His voice was breathy and his eyes were anxious.

 

“I’m fine, Wells. Really, don’t worry about it.”

 

Wells looked up and over, his eyes following someone at the party.

 

“Who was  _ that _ guy?” He asked.

 

She turned to see that Bellamy was gone, now across the room, his back to them as he exited the party.

 

“Um. Just someone I met.”

 

When she turned back to Wells he was staring at her curiously and she knew immediately that he didn’t believe her. Not entirely. He was her best friend. He knew her better than anyone.

 

“Can we just- Find a place to sit this whole shitshow out? I’m tired of being here but I definitely can’t ditch early. Not after the last party.”

 

Wells nodded, his arm coming up to rest across her shoulders. He led them to a nice bench on the other side of the dividing line where they had a good view of the rowing teams.

 

She looked, only half watching them race. Instead, her eyes clung to ripples in the water, the feeling of its coolness drifting toward the shore and chilling her to the bone.

 

Eventually, her phone buzzed once more and she pulled it from her pants pocket.

 

**Raven** _Yeah, you better. Open Mic Night is every Tuesday, by the way. ;)_

 

She tapped her phone once more, the screen going dark, and returned her gaze to the cool water and the hot sun that blazed overhead.

  
  


 

* * *

  
  
  
  
  


After almost a week of doing as she was told by her mother, she was slowly going insane.

 

Raven and Bellamy hadn’t been at any more of the events and she found herself longing to see his dark curly hair behind the bar at every party she had to go to.

 

She had seen Sinclair two or three more times. Each time, she made an effort to talk to him and ask about Raven.

 

_ “Oh, Raven is her own free spirit.” He chuckled. “She’s all over the place.” _

 

_ “Yeah, I picked up on that somewhat.” She answered with a smile. _

 

_ “You two should get together again. She mentioned how much fun you guys had last week at The Bunker.” _

 

The Bunker.

 

She had a name, at least.

 

The name of the bar was The Bunker. She was almost positive there was a story behind that and she made a mental note to ask Miller about it the next time she saw him.

 

Still, her mother hadn’t let up on her for almost a week. It wasn’t until the following Tuesday morning at breakfast that she found her opportunity.

 

“I just can’t believe that Chanel allowed her dinner party to fall through like this at the last minute.” Her mother was saying, her tone hauty and holier-than-thou.

 

Clarke’s ears perked up at her words, though.

 

The dinner party was canceled.

 

“Oh. Well if the party’s canceled, I may go hang out with Raven.” Clarke said out loud, her eyes still glued to her plate of eggs, refusing to meet her mother’s piercing stare.

 

“Raven? Sinclair’s daughter? Well, I was hoping to perhaps do something with the Meeks, but I suppose you could go see her. She seems like a good influence for you.”

 

She carefully composed her face, refusing to snort at her mother’s statement. 

 

If only she knew where Raven liked to hang out.

 

“Cool.” Clarke said. “I’ll let you know what she says.”

 

She sat for five more minutes, pretending to eat her eggs, her fingers tracing the lines in the marble countertops as she listened to her parents talk about meaningless nonsense before she finally put her plate in the sink and retreated upstairs to her music room.

 

Collapsing on the sofa in front of the window, she pulled her phone from her pocket and sent a message to Raven.

 

**Clarke** _ I have freedom! Any chance you want to hang out tonight? _

 

She put her phone away and leaned over to pick up her guitar from its stand beside the couch. She lay there for a few minutes, strumming a few chords over and over that had been playing around in her head for a few days.

 

Since the day Bellamy saved her at the party.

 

That day, it was almost like she was meeting Bellamy for the first time.

 

Not the grumpy, hateful Bellamy who put on a shield when he met her the first time.

 

The real Bellamy.

 

She sighed, the texture of the shag rug tickling the bottoms of her foot as she ran her toes through the little pieces of soft fabric.

 

And then her phone beeped.

 

**Raven** _ Took you long enough. I’ve got to give you some lessons on successfully ditching rich people shit. Meet you at the bar? You got a ride? _

 

She bit down on her bottom lip, staring up at the three story-tall ceilings, the wooden carvings there were mesmerizing suddenly.

 

**Clarke** _ Yeah. I’ll see you there. _

 

She sat up on the couch, guitar in her lap and thought about what she was about to do, making all considerations before she actually typed out the message.

 

**Clarke** _ Can you get away tonight? I’ve got a plan. _

  
  


 

* * *

  
  
  
  


It took some convincing, but eventually Wells caved and decided to accompany her to The Bunker. She had previously avoided telling him about her and Raven’s after-dinner spot, afraid that he would admonish her for:

 

1 - Going to a bar

2 - Going to a bar in the Hamptons, where there parents could potentially find out

 

Which he did, of course. For both of the above reasons.

 

She even tried explaining to him that there was no way on Earth their parents would ever find out because it was so far off the beaten path. No one there knew or even cared who Abby Griffin and Thelonious Jaha were.

 

He  _ still _ hadn’t been convinced.

 

But once he saw that she was intent on going back, even if she had to pay for an Uber, he’d decided that it was better if he just go along. Ever the protective, pseudo-older brother, he’d rather she misbehave and he be there to make sure she stayed alive than to let her go alone.

 

She smirked from her place in the passenger side seat of his convertible as she watched him grumpily make his way down the road, her GPS their guiding force.

 

The days were so long now that even though it was 8:30 at night, the sun was still bright enough that they were both wearing sunglasses. And behind his sunglasses, she knew his eyes were narrowed in frustration.

 

She chuckled and he humphed.

 

“You could at least pretend not to be so damned pleased with yourself.” He grumbled petulantly.

 

She shrugged her shoulder and looked out at the ocean just beyond the road, a measly little wooden fence only mildly obstructing her view of its waves. They were so far away from her parents’ edge of the Hamptons that the beach practically looked untouched in comparison. No giant mansions and privacy fences to be seen.

 

“I could.” She grinned, looking back at his displeased face. “But I won’t.”

 

Wells mumbled, straightening his collar. She had tried to convince him to wear something casual, but honestly, with Wells, a collared polo really  _ was _ casual. Meanwhile, she was enjoying the warm, breezy summer air in her simple, light blue sundress, her blonde hair swept to the side in a loose braid over her shoulder.

 

“Next time, I’m just gonna let you go alone and potentially  _ die. _ ”

 

She snorted.

 

“No you won’t, big brother.” She teased.

 

He said nothing after that and she knew that she had him beaten.

 

“Besides, I think you’ll like this place. It’s really chill. You could use some chill.”

 

His eyebrows rose from underneath his glasses.

 

“Are you saying I don’t know how to chill?”

 

She laughed outright.

 

“That’s  _ exactly _ what I’m saying.”

 

She watched him open his mouth then close it several times before finally deciding to not speak, grinding his teeth together.

 

They had passed many different homes on their way to the bar and at that moment they passed a beach cottage that had obviously seen better days. The siding had long since worn away and you couldn’t even really see what color it once been. It sat on short stilts, just far enough off the ground to prevent flooding in case of a normal hurricane. The windows were all boarded up, closed to the outside world.

 

But what really caught her attention was the porch that wrapped all the way around the home, quaint and charming. It called to her in a way her mother’s house never could. 

 

“We’re almost there, right?” Wells’ voice brought her from her thoughts and she looked down at her phone screen, the directions indicating they were only five minutes from the bar.

 

“Yeah. A few minutes.” She turned back to Wells, serious. “Listen. When we get there… tonight’s a special night for them at the bar. And I don’t want you getting any ideas.”

 

Wells glanced in her direction, confused.

 

“A special night? That’s not cryptic at all.”

 

She shrugged.

 

“Yeah, well, I live in the cryptic land.”

 

Even though she couldn’t see them, she knew that he was rolling his eyes.

 

Before long, they pulled up in front of the bar. 

 

She had texted Raven three minutes out to let her know that they were almost there, so when they pulled up, she was outside waiting for them. She waved to Clarke from her place standing by the side door.

 

In the twilight, she was able to see the bar a little bit better than she had the last time. The outdoor seating was housed under a pergola of sorts, and the wooden stilts of the pergola were mimicked all the way around the building. Strings of lights illuminated the outdoor area and she could see that it was packed with people, their attention all drawn to the main part of the bar. She knew that the back wall of the bar was retractable, open to the outdoor area and that when it was nice like today and like last time, they pulled open the back wall so people could see inside from the outdoors. 

 

“Clarke!” She heard Raven’s yell as soon as the engine cut off.

 

She waved and then opened the car door, running forward to hug her new friend as she met her half way.

 

“Raven, this is Wells.” She said, pulling back so that the two of them could greet each other.

 

Raven grinned, reaching out to shake Wells’ hand.

 

“Nice polo.”

 

She could’ve swore Wells blushed and Clarke giggled, hitting the other girl on the shoulder.

 

“This is Wells’ casual, Raven. Seriously. So let’s not give him too hard of a time.”

 

Raven reached over pulling at his collar somewhat.

 

“Giving people a hard time is just what I  _ do, _ Griffin.”

 

Wells laughed lightly, only slightly uncomfortable.

 

“It’s cool, Clarke. I knew showing up at a bar in a polo would get me a few stares and comments. I am fully equipped to handle them.”

 

Clarke looked at him a little incredulously and even though she saw right through his statement, she decided to let it pass.

 

“Anywho, let’s go. The performers have already started.” Raven said, taking Clarke by the hand and leading her to the entrance.

 

“Performers?” Wells’ voice made her throat hitch as she registered what he was about to find out.

 

“Yeah, Tuesdays are Open Mic Night, didn’t Clarke tell you?”

 

Clarke chuckled nervously, pulling Raven more quickly toward the door. Maybe if they were inside fast enough, Wells would be gentlemanly enough to not call her out.

 

“THAT’S why you said you didn’t want me to get any ideas!”

 

Raven paused, and because Clarke was still holding her hand, she too jerked to a stop and turned to face Wells, her face pleading with him to stop.

 

“What?” Raven asked, looking back and forth between the two of them. “What ideas?”

 

Wells sported a mischievous grin and she knew that he was about to pay her back for all of her smugness in the car.

 

“Oh, nothing.” Wells said and for a second, she thought she was in the clear. “Clarke, here, just thought that if I knew it was Open Mic Night, I’d bug her to perform.”

 

Raven turned to her then, eyes wide.

 

“Perform? You perform?”

 

“NO!” Clarke all but shouted. “No. I don’t. He’s just kidding.”

 

Raven glared at her suspiciously.

 

“You wouldn’t be lying to me, now would you, Griffin?”

 

Clarke turned on her toes and walked without Raven to the entrance.

 

“See you inside!”

 

She knew it was a cop-out but she was also the world’s  _ worst _ liar and she wasn’t about to be drawn into a discussion on her performing. Or her  _ not _ performing, more accurately.

 

Walking inside, her eyes were immediately drawn to the girl on stage who was holding a guitar, her eyes closed as she sang into the microphone. She was actually pretty good. 

 

And even more of a reason for Clarke to never  _ ever _ perform there.

 

“Clarke!” She heard some whisper her name and turned to find Miller standing behind the bar. He was waving with one hand, his other wiping down the bar with a rag.

 

Walking up, she sat down on top of the stool in front of him and smiled.

 

“Hey Miller!” She looked at him curiously for a second, deep in thought. “You know, I was just thinking of you earlier this week. There was something I wanted to ask you, but now I can’t remember what it was.”

 

Miller chuckled and flung the rag he was using over his left shoulder, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“Don’t tell Bellamy that.”

 

She tilted her head to the side in confusion, ignoring the way her stomach flipped at the sound of Bellamy’s name.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

His eyes looked up then and seemed to register something before he shook his head.

 

“Nothing. Water again? Or are you feeling more adventurous?”

 

She shrugged her shoulders.

 

“I don’t really know any good drinks that don’t involve alcohol. What you got?”

 

He grinned. 

 

“I’ll be back. I know just the thing.”

 

She watched him walk away just as she felt someone plop down on the stool beside her.

 

“I can’t  _ believe _ you!” Raven said, her voice far too loud and definitely disturbing to the poor performer’s audience.

 

“Shh!” She hushed, her hands motioning downward to signal Raven to keep her voice down. She felt Wells drop onto the stool behind her and she mentally eviscerated him and his big mouth.

 

“I can’t believe you!” Raven said again, this time more quiet. “You sat through an entire Open Mic Night last week and not  _ once _ did you think to mention you’re a  _ musician? _ ”

 

Clarke rolled her eyes and kicked Wells under the bar. She heard him welp behind her.

 

“Not a musician, Raven. I… Play music and write songs in my spare time. For fun.”

 

Raven chuckled and motioned to Miller for something as he sat a drink down in front of Clarke.

 

“Sure. We’ll see about that.”

 

She watched from her peripheral as Wells picked up her drink. She turned to see him sniff it before placing it back on the bar.

 

“Did you really think Miller would serve me alcohol? He could be arrested.”

 

Wells shrugged.

 

“Doesn’t always bother bartenders as long as they get paid. Just checking.”

 

She sighed and just as quickly as she had exhaled, she found herself inhaling sharply once again. 

 

Bellamy Blake entered the bar from the back room, a cage of glasses in his hands and a towel over his shoulder. She bit down on her bottom lip as her eyes followed the way his shirt was riding up his abdomen as he walked, the dark skin underneath revealed to her gaze.

 

She heard Wells curse and her attention was momentarily trained back on her best friend and away from the hot bartender.

 

“You’ve gotta be  _ kidding _ me, Clarke.” He hissed, leaning into her so that no one else could hear. “You seriously didn’t drag me to a bar in the middle of nowhere so you could flirt with the cute bartender from the party, did you?”

 

Clarke could feel herself blushing, her fingers crushing the drink napkin in front of her.

 

“No!” She hissed back. “I- I don’t even  _ like _ Bellamy.”

 

Wells’ eyes narrowed.

 

“You’re on a first name basis with him?”

 

“Oh she wishes she were on a much more familiar basis with him, trust me.”

 

She and Wells simultaneously turned to the smirking Raven, not quite realizing she had been able to hear their conversation.

 

“I do not!” Clarke said indignantly.

 

“Yeah. Ya do.” Raven returned, pointing at Clarke with her glass in her hand. “But if it makes you feel any better, he totally feels the same way.”

 

Her heart was  _ racing _ in her chest and even though she knew she should be defending how much she  _ didn’t _ like Bellamy, all she could think about was did he  _ really _ feel that way too?

 

Before she could retort, she felt a presence approach them and the three of them looked up to see the aforementioned man standing on the other side of the bar, two feet away.

 

“Hey Raven.” Bellamy cleared his throat. “Clarke.” He nodded at her her. “Who’s this?” He motioned to Wells.

 

Clarke sat up straighter in her seat. 

 

“This is Wells. He’s my best friend since birth.”

 

Wells and Bellamy seemed to size one another up and Clarke almost rolled her eyes at the masculine display, only stopping herself when they finally nodded at one another, seemingly satisfied.

 

Bellamy cleared his throat again, turning back to Clarke.

 

“So uh-”

 

“We’re heeeeere!” Came a loud voice from the entrance and she turned to see who was causing a commotion, silently thankful that the performer had finished and no one was on stage.

 

The girl in question had long dark hair and a wide grin. She looked vaguely familiar in a way Clarke couldn’t identify. She was accompanied by three others. Two guys who were arguing with one another in hushed voices and a pretty blonde girl who seemed just a little too excited to be in a bar on the side of the road.

 

“O, keep your voice down. You know it’s Open Mic.”

 

The girl rolled her eyes, walking up to the bar and leaning against it on the other side of Raven, her friends taking seats further down the bar.

 

“Chill, big brother, no one’s performing right now.” She seemed to notice at that moment that Bellamy had been talking to the three of them and she eyed Clarke and Wells with interest. “And who might you two be?”

 

Raven grinned then, bringing her glass up to her lips.

 

“ _ This _ is Clarke. And her best friend, Wells.” She took a sip of her drink, her grin still present even as she drank.

 

The other girl’s eyes lit up and she walked around Raven’s stool to stand beside Clarke. Clarke turned on her seat so that she was facing her.

 

“ _ Clarke, _ huh? Nice to meet you,  _ Clarke. _ I’m Octavia.” She held her hand out for Clarke to shake so she did. “Bellamy’s sister.”

 

Clarke’s eyebrows shot up.

 

“Bellamy has a sister?” She asked dumbly and Octavia snorted, turning to glare at her brother.

 

“Of course he’d forget to mention that while he’s being all judgy.”

 

Clarke suddenly understood the emphasis on her name. Apparently Raven and Miller weren’t the only people who knew about her and Bellamy’s meet cute.

 

She grinned at Bellamy’s sister playfully.

 

“I know, right? I think  _ that _ would’ve been a much more pleasant conversation starter, don’t you?” Clarke asked, deeply amused by Bellamy’s obvious annoyance behind the bar.

 

The other girl smiled back, her eyes flickering to her brother and then back.

 

“Definitely. He sure fucked it up, didn’t he?”

 

“Language, O. And I would thank you not to have a conversation about me _ right in front of me _ . I’ve apologized already, as you know.”

 

Octavia playfully glared at her brother.

 

“Don’t let him off the hook so easily, Clarke. I like you. Make him suffer a little.” She turned to face the bar. “Now where is our next performer? Aren’t out of people already, are you, brother?”

 

She looked up in time to see Bellamy sigh.

 

“Not as many people tonight. Something’s going on in town and attendance is down.”

 

Raven cleared her throat and her eyes shot to Clarke.

 

“Clarke could always sing something. The piano is perfectly in tune.”

 

All at once, everyone in their circle seemed to stop what they were doing to stare at Raven and Clarke. 

 

Clarke glared at her friend.

 

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stop talking now.” Clarke ground out, her teeth gritted.

 

Raven laughed.

 

“Come on, Griffin. It’s not a big deal. No one here is going to give you a hard time for being a musician. It’s not your mom’s little circle of friends.”

 

“You sing, Princess?”

 

Her heart jolted and she turned to face Bellamy. When had that hateful nickname taken on a new, more pleasant meaning to her heart?

 

“Uh-” She hesitated, her eyes shifting to Wells who was wincing and looking down at the bartop in guilt. “A little.”

 

Wells sat up then. “Yeah, she does. She’s really,  _ really _ good.” He said with conviction and Clarke loved that he wanted to lift her up.

 

“But I definitely  _ won’t _ be performing.” She shot in. 

 

Bellamy’s eyes shuttered and he started cleaning the bar with his rag.

 

“What? Our bar not good enough for you to sing in?”

 

She could hear Raven groan on the stool next to her and she studiously ignored it in favor of narrowing her eyes at Bellamy.

 

“No, actually. I just don’t perform,  _ period. _ ”

 

She looked up to see him swallow and sigh, his hand rubbing at his eyes.

 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean that.” He said lowly, his voice genuine, and his face twisted in dark amusement. “I obviously have deep-seeded issues with wealth disparity.”

 

Try as she may, she couldn’t hide the small smile that lifted her lips at his self-aware remark. 

 

Well, at least he  _ knew _ when he was being an asshole.

 

“Yeah well, you’re going to have to get passed it, asshat.” She said, somewhat playfully.

 

He looked at her, his lips quirked.

 

“As you wish, Princess.”

  
  


\---

  
  


An hour later, Bellamy and Miller had gotten busy, filling drink orders. Since there wasn’t anyone on stage, people were looking to distract themselves with alcohol and Clarke spoke some more with Octavia. Wells had stepped outside to talk to his father so Octavia took the seat on the other side of her from Raven.

 

“So. I really  _ am  _ glad I got to meet you. When I heard about the rich girl who put my brother in his place, I squealed with glee.”

 

Clarke giggled and sat her chin in her palm, leaning against the countertop, her eyes occasionally drifting to watch Bellamy work.

 

“Yeah, well.” Clarke started, her eyes falling back to the counter. “He’s trying to make up for it, at least.”

 

Octavia sipped her water. She, as Clarke had found out, was a year younger than Clarke at 17, and only came to the bar to spend time with her brother who was always working. She was about to start her senior year in high school.

 

“He is. Now if we could just get  _ that one _ to leave him alone, we’d be golden.” She pointed down the bar to where Bellamy was now talking to a pretty brunette, a smile on his face, her smile sweet and somewhat seductive.

 

She felt her heart clench at the sight, instantly her mind racing with ideas and possibilities.

 

_ Didn’t Raven say he was single? Who’s that?  _

 

“Don’t worry. She’s an ex. Meaning, they’ve broken up. But she seems to not know what that means. She shows up here a lot trying to charm him into coming back to her, but he left her for a reason and he knows that, even if she refuses to accept it.”

 

Jealousy wasn’t something she was necessarily familiar with. She  _ definitely _ wasn’t used to having these wild, uncontrollably feelings of inadequacy.

 

“What was the reason?” She asked quietly, almost scared of the answer.

 

She turned to Octavia who was still watching the pair with undisguised distaste.

 

“She’s a manipulative, controlling biyatch. Bell tends to go all-in when it comes to relationships. Gina likes to exploit that. She didn’t care about him nearly as much as he cared about her. And they’ve been broken up for a  _ year. _ He’s long since moved on and she’s dated plenty of people, but she still likes to come in here and try and toy with Bellamy.”

 

For some reason, this other girl who she didn’t even  _ know _ made Clarke very angry. 

 

No wonder Bellamy had trust issues.

 

She tapped her fingers on the bar, contemplating.

 

Now that she was looking closely, she could see just a tad hint of uncomfortableness in the corners of his eyes as he smiled and she wanted so badly to rescue him the way that he had her earlier that week with Finn.

 

But what could  _ she _ possibly do?

 

She  _ could _ walk over there, but her own insecurities shouted at her, pointing out the other girl’s beautiful face. The way they seemed to know one another, even despite his displeasure. And she was  _ shit _ at flirting. Her awkward nature crippling in budding relationships.

 

And then suddenly, it hit her. 

 

The one thing she  _ did  _ know how to do.

 

She knew that it would give him a reason to exit the conversation, but she was so deeply terrified of the idea, she could actually taste the anxiety in her mouth like a bitter pill you had to swallow.

 

But she did  _ owe _ him, she supposed.

 

She stood from her seat quickly, surprising both Octavia and Raven, but she needed to move  _ now _ before she changed her mind.

 

“Uh-Clarke?” Raven questioned. “Everything okay?”

 

She glanced back down at Bellamy and the way his fingers were biting into the flesh of his arms and her resolved strengthened, but her speech came out stilited and nervous.

 

“Yeah- I just- I-” She tumbled over the words but then decided to just  _ fuck it _ and walked around her stool toward the stage in the center of the bar.

 

“Holy  _ shit. _ ” She could hear Raven from behind her and as she passed the front door, her gaze caught Wells’ through the glass, his eyes widened before she watched him pull his phone away from his ear, saying something and then tapping the screen.

 

Even though she knew it was unlikely, it felt like every eye in the room was on hers as she took those last few steps through the crowd toward the stage. Her eyes took in the light shining down on the piano in the middle, the glare flashing brilliantly against the walls of the bar.

 

It was such a  _ nice _ piano for a beach bar and it had obviously been well-loved. The top was propped open already and as her hands slid across the slick surface of the enamel, she felt her heart calm just a bit, the familiar feeling not unlike the one she got when she caressed the surface of her own piano back home.

 

Once she was behind the instrument, she was pleasantly surprised to find that she couldn’t even see anyone from up here, the lights were so bright. The spotlight’s pool of light made sure to create shadows across her waiting audience and even though she knew people  _ had _ to be looking at her by this point, she couldn’t actually  _ see  _ any of them.

 

And for some reason that was… comforting.

 

It was almost like she could imagine she was alone. And if she closed her eyes, she could even pretend that it was just her and her piano.

 

When she sat down on the hard piano bench, she moved it back a tad, giving herself plenty of room to move her feet on the pedals below. She adjusted the microphone awkwardly and moved it to a position where it would pick up her voice but stay out of the way of her playing.

 

The bar had grown very quiet, the stillness almost eerie in a sense, and yet, it made it easier  _ still _ to imagine she was alone.

 

When she flicked the microphone’s button into the “On” position, a thump of power echoed throughout the quiet room, signaling that the microphone now had juice and was ready for her to start singing.

 

She exhaled softly and the sound of her breath could be heard on the monitor sitting beside her on the stage, further proof that now, everyone could hear anything she said or did.

 

With a shaky finger, she struck the E key, the pedal depressed, and the soft, lingering tone was louder than usual in her ears. Both in thanks to the microphone in the opening of the piano and the pounding in her ears.

 

_ You can do this. _

 

She breathed.

 

There was no backing out now, anyways.

 

Leaving the stage without performing would be even more humiliating than just  _ doing it _ at this point.

 

She hadn’t even thought of what she would sing once she got up on stage. The song she had written a few weeks before graduation came to mind and she knew it was the right one. Remembered how much Wells had liked it.

 

Slowly, she brought both of her hands to the keys, stoking them softly and closing her eyes.

 

Deep breaths.

 

_ In. Out. _

 

And then it fell away. All of it. It was just her and the piano.

 

Her and her sorrows.

 

Before she could even register it, she played the opening chords, her hands moving seamlessly over the keys. Muscle memory pushed her forward, arriving her at the beginning of the song before she could back out.

 

_ There’s a harvest each Saturday night at the bars filled with perfume and hitching a ride. _

 

As she sang about her home, her brain shut down and her body took over, her heart moving over the words of the song. She didn’t even register the weight of everyone’s gaze as she sang the words she poured out onto the piano.

 

_ Here in these deep city lights, girl could get lost tonight. _

_ I’m finding every reason to be gone.  _

_ Nothing here to hold onto - Could I hold you? _

 

She drifted back to her life in the city, the feeling of emptiness - The hopelessness of it all. The charade of her life. Her desperation to  _ feel _ . To find anything - Any _ one _ to help fill that void.

 

_ Calling out, somebody save me I feel like I’m fading away- _

 

The music flowed from her soul and left her feeling blissfully aware, the final notes of the song ringing throughout the room.

 

She finished, her breath returning as well as her awareness.

 

The bar was silent for a long moment and she was suddenly terrified.

 

_ Was it that bad? _

 

And then it wasn’t.

 

Every person in the bar was loudly cheering and through it all she could hear the voices of those she was familiar with. Even Wells - Who seemed to be the loudest of them all. 

 

And even though she couldn’t even  _ see anyone,  _ she started laughing, giddy. The performance leaving her with some sort of cathartic  _ high. _

 

_ I can’t believe I just did that. _

 

She stood on shaky legs, slowly but surely stepping down from the stage.

 

She was instantly bombarded by her friends, encircling her in hugs and support, huge grins on their faces.

 

“I can’t believe you just did that!” Wells said, echoing her thoughts to a T, as usual.

 

“That was kick-ASS, Griffin! I thought you said you weren’t a musician, you fucking  _ liar? _ ” Raven shouted over the cheers of the crowd, the applause loud and distracting.

 

She was laughing uncontrollably, so fucking  _ happy _ , her breathing quick and out of control.

 

Passed around from person to person, she was finally let go, and she stood, looking around the room at all the pleased grins from the patrons.

 

And when she looked up at last, there he was.

 

He was slowly making his way toward her, weaving through the crowd and those standing around her, well wishers congratulating her on an amazing performance. But somehow, they parted for him like he was fucking  _ Moses, _ or some shit, and before she knew it, he was there.

 

In front of her.

 

“You did good, Princess.” He said, his voice deep and resonating within her.

 

He smirked at the cheesy grin she was wearing and she only smiled wider.

 

“I did, didn’t I? I’m not even going to let your demeaning little nickname get me down, Blake.”

 

He matched he grin then, his hand coming up to tuck a piece of her hair that had fallen from her braid behind her ear, his thumb grazing her cheek as he pulled away, tucking his hand back in his pocket.

 

“You say it’s demeaning, but I think you  _ really  _ like it.”

 

She did. Oh, she  _ so  _ did.

 

But she wasn’t about to admit that to  _ him. _

 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

 

He opened his mouth to respond, but the cheering people around her finally seemed to register that she had been side tracked.

 

“Come here, woman, I want a picture to commemorate this momentous occasion!” Raven shouted, dragging her back to the stage for a selfie, the piano in the background.

 

After that, she was pulled back and forth for different pictures, even with people she didn’t know.

 

Yet, everytime she looked his way, Bellamy’s gaze was following her across the room, heated and purposeful. 

 

No ex-girlfriend in sight.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


When she got home that night, she wrote like a woman on fire, the song flowing through her fingers and onto the page faster than she could even strum it out on her guitar. 

 

Her mind was filled with visions of Bellamy, his face as he watched her from across the room. The way he’d slowly sought her out, making his way through the crowd. Her feelings of anxiety as she watched him with Gina, and the butterflies that swam around in her stomach on her way home after he congratulated her and called her Princess. She remembered the rowing tournament and how he’d saved her from Finn and from the fake smile she’d had to plaster across her face.

 

She looked up at one point to see that it was 2 AM and she was still no closer to sleep, still writing and playing on her guitar, needing to get it all out before she fell asleep.

 

By the time she falls asleep, the sun was starting to rise outside and she knew she’d be woken up far too soon.

 

“Clarke!” Her mother’s voice drifted into her consciousness, and she sleepily blinked the tired from her eyes. “Clarke!” Her mother yelled again, this time knocking on her door.

 

“What?” She moaned, covering her head with the covers to fight against the bright sunshine.

 

“Why on Earth are you still in bed, young lady! Maybe if you’re going to stay up so late, you don’t need to go out with Raven anymore.”

 

She huffed, flinging the covers back.

 

“I’m up, mother. What do you need?” She would certainly continue this conversation through the door if she was going to have to put up with her indignant harping.

 

“Get dressed. I’ve set up a little picnic on the beach with a family friend.”

 

And then she was gone.

 

Clarke mumbled to herself as she got dressed. First her bathing suit and then a sundress, one that covered most of her. 

 

No need in showing anything off when there was no chance of Bellamy being there.

 

_ You’re hopeless. _

 

When they got to the beach, Clarke was instantly dismayed to see the family was  _ Finn’s _ family.

 

She had to endure an hour of talking to Finn’s parents before their parents consciously sent the two of them toward the snack bar up the beach and told them to grab drinks for the family.

 

So she walked along, swinging the reusable bag in her hand between the two of them to ward off any potential hand-holding he might want.

 

“So, it’s good to see you again. Haven’t been able to talk to you alone since we were rudely interrupted at that party.” Finn said after about a half a mile.

 

She rolled her eyes, stepping just a little way away from him, uncomfortable.

 

“You mean when Bellamy stepped in to stop you from making an unwanted move on me even after I told you I wasn’t interested?”

 

She heard Finn chuckle and suddenly she found herself pressed up against the lifeguard stand they were passing, her hands immediately rising to press against his chest, pushing him away.

 

“Oh, come on, Clarke, stop playing hard to get, would you? It’s getting old. I know you want this.” He snarled.

 

Her eyes narrowed even as she struggled against his grip on her upper arms and she started to retort but Finn was unexpectedly pulled away from her at the last second.

 

She watched as he was thrown to the ground, her eyes widening as she realized it was Bellamy who had pulled him off.

 

“Bellamy, wait!” His fist was in the air like he was about to pummell Finn further into the ground but he paused, turning to look at her, his eyes angry.

 

“Someone needs to teach this little shit a lesson, Clarke. And if no one else is going to, than I sure as hell am.” He said, his voice surprisingly calm in spite of his obvious anger.

 

She pleaded with him, her eyes willing him to understand. Stepping closer, she placed her hand on his chest, this time in comfort, feeling it rise and fall with his heavy breathing.

 

“His parents would  _ destroy  _ you, Bellamy.” She whispered so Finn couldn’t hear her. “He’s not worth it.”

 

They both watched Finn stand up and wipe sand from his linen trousers, glaring spitefully at Bellamy.

 

“This guy again, Clarke? Really? Shacking up with the help now, whore? I swear my father will hear about this! I-”

 

But then he didn’t say anything else as Clarke punched him in the face, his head snapping backwards and his body falling to the ground. He clutched at his nose, shouting in pain, whimpering pathetically.

 

“No, Finn. My  _ mother _ will hear about this unless you go back to our families and act like nothing’s wrong. And I don’t think you want something like sexual assault on your record. I’m sure  _ Harvard  _ wouldn’t look too kindly at something so  _ embarrassing. _ ”

 

Finn glared at her over his hands and skulked away, brushing past them, his shoulder jostling into Bellamy’s.

 

Bellamy turned to say something, but Clarke’s hand on his arm stopped him once more.

 

“Don’t.” She watched him turned back around. “Like I said, not worth it. I promise.”

 

His eyes found hers, searching for something.

 

“Are you  _ sure _ you’re okay? You still should report him, you know. I’ll be a witness.”

 

She sighed, her hand rubbing her temples tiredly.

 

“I’m fine. He’s an asshole who’s never been told ‘no.’ I  _ could _ report him. I may still. But right  _ now _ I just want to say thank you.” 

 

He straightened at that, clearing his throat and looking down the beach at something in the distance and then back to her.

 

“It’s what any  _ decent _ person would’ve done, Princess.”

 

She smiled at the affectionate way he said the nickname now.

 

“Yeah, well, you’re not  _ just _ anyone, are you?”

 

They stood there for a minute, looking at one another, expressions soft and searching.

 

“So, what are you even doing here? Do you frequently come this way?” She asked, clearing her throat and clearing her head.

 

He snorted and looked toward the snack bar where she and Finn had been headed. 

 

“Not usually, but Octavia is working at the snack bar this summer. So I come visit sometimes.”

 

She watched him rub the back of his neck, his t-shirt blowing around and clinging to the panes of his chest in the slight breeze coming off the waves. Her mind raced with possibilities knowing that Bellamy was going to be within walking distance from her whenever he came to visit his sister.

 

“You’re amazing, by the way.” He said suddenly. “Your music it’s- It’s amazing. Why don’t you perform?”

 

She chuckled mirthlessly, looking down toward the ground, her sandal digging in to the soft sand beneath her.

 

“And that… Is a story for another day.” She sighed. “But in the meantime, I don’t really feel like going back to the picnic from hell.” She looked down the beach in the opposite direction where she could vaguely see her mother’s mansion in the distance. “Any chance you want to walk me home? You know, to beat up the shysters?” 

 

He smiled then, a genuine smile and it made her want to melt into a puddle on the ground, her heart racing as his hand found hers and squeezed.

 

“Absolutely. Wouldn’t dream of letting the Princess walk home alone.”

 

She smirked as they fell into step.

 

“Good. It’s nice to have the company. You know, for  _ protection _ .”

 

He pulled on her hand and she tripped slightly, falling a little closer to him, almost crashing into his chest.

 

He chuckled. 

 

“Yeah, Princess. For protection.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For protection, y'all.
> 
> ALL the protection, if you catch my drift *Wink wink*
> 
> Anywho.
> 
> Hope you all are enjoying this breezy, aesthetically pleasing fic. I don't why but the whole mood of this fic makes me want to put together art prints or lounge on the beach with a glass of champagne, either/or.
> 
> Let me know your thoughts in the comments! I love reading them! And I saw some of you even putting together some of the foreshadowing I dropped in the last chapter! If you've read my fics before, then you know I like to drop easter eggs in early chapters of what's coming up later.
> 
> This story will be moving more quickly than my others just bc it's shorter, so we are already starting to see the two of them come to terms with their feelings. Like I said, this one will be all schmaltzy, Nicolas Sparks-esque summer romance.
> 
>  
> 
> I will be tweeting out the opportunity to help me choose the next Romantic Comedy I rewrite for my RomComREMIX series later this week, so make sure you're following me @MallidayWrites on Twitter to help choose!
> 
> Also, I've started a Curious Cat, so if there's anything you want to tell me/ask me but you wanna do it anonymously, that's the place to go!
> 
> Here's the link:
> 
> https://curiouscat.me/Malliday
> 
> SO!
> 
> Until next Sunday....
> 
> -Mally


	4. See Me In Hindsight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Sunday Funday is one for the books.
> 
> Let's just say I'm super happy this is being posted around the same time lol.
> 
> These chapters are ending up somewhere around 10,000 words and take a while to edit, so I apologize for the updates coming later in the day, but they're pretty long.
> 
> Today you have two songs again! One for mood and one for Clarke.
> 
> "Swept Away (Sentimental Version)" by The Avett Brothers 
> 
> "One Sweet Love" by Sara Bareilles
> 
> Without further ado, let's see what these two soft, love sick fools are up to.
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**See Me In Hindsight**

 

**"Swept Away (Sentimental Version)" by The Avett Brothers**

**"One Sweet Love" by Sara Bareilles (Clarke's Song)**

 

  


She didn’t know what it was, really, that made her feel so giddy as they walked back to her house together that afternoon.

 

Bellamy’s hand held hers briefly, dragging her closer to him, his grip sure for a minute before she found him letting go, their arms swinging in sync side by side.

 

Just that small touch of her skin against his had lit her up from the inside and suddenly, that intense initial attraction she had experienced the first time they met reared its head to stare in her direction.

 

Maybe it was the rush of adrenaline from punching Finn in the face that she was feeling.

 

That _had_ been satisfying.

 

She was being honest when she told Bellamy that Finn’s parents would destroy him in the court system if he laid a hand on Finn.

 

But _her_?

 

Yeah, good luck with that one.

 

They walked along the sand, the waves ceaseless in their crashing as they steadily rose higher and higher toward them, nearing full tide.

 

It was a surprisingly cloudy day, in spite of the warm air, and she was secretly grateful that the sun wasn’t beating down on them because it allowed her to just _look_ at him.

 

He didn’t really talk much on the walk back, answering any questions she had but not asking any of his own. She was starting to feel like maybe he was afraid to get to know her for whatever reason that might be.

 

She wanted to fix it.

 

Unfortunately, the walk to her mother’s mansion was short and they arrived far sooner than she wanted. She looked up the hill to where it sat, up and away from the direct shoreline to protect it from hurricanes, the imposing manolith intimidating to say the least.

 

“Thanks for walking me home.” She said softly, her voice betraying her true gratefulness.

 

Bellamy looked up then, following her gaze to the home in the distance, his chest hitching somewhat as he took it in.

 

“So you really are a princess, aren’t you? With a castle and everything.”

 

She snorted and looked down at the ground, digging her toes into the sand, her hands clenching and unclenching around her sandals in her hand.

 

“I don’t know about that. Maybe Rapunzel?”

 

He turned back to face her, a smirk in place.

 

“The trapped Princess?” He studied her. “I guess I could see it. Blonde hair, hanging out with a hooligan lowlife.”

 

She grinned in spite of herself.

 

“You’re up to date on your Disney movies, Blake?”

 

Bellamy shrugged his shoulder, unashamed.

 

“I have a teenage sister. Up to a certain year, I’m pretty sure I can tell you all the words to every boy band song on the charts.”

 

Clarke’s grin widened.

 

“I’d like to see that.”

 

Bellamy rolled his eyes, his cheeks coloring somewhat as he reached up to rub the back of his neck nervously.

 

“Yeah, not gonna happen, Princess.” He sighed and looked back at her house in the distance. “You’d better get going. Probably wanna get settled in before your parents come home and see you outside fraternizing with the help.”

 

Her brow furrowed and she stepped forward, a little closer to his proximity.

 

“Bellamy.” She said softly but firmly. “Don’t call yourself the help. Finn’s an asshole. And you’re not defined by your job. What is this? Victor Hugo’s 19th Century France?”

 

He smiled then, a beautiful smile that took her breath away for a moment, his whole body turning to face her and give her his full attention.

 

“You’re up to date on the classics, Princess?”

 

She returned his smile, her right hand propped on her hip.

 

“I think there’s plenty about me that you don’t know.”

 

His eyes swept up and down her figure, lingering at places that made her face heat, until they met hers once more.

 

“You might be right.” He said, his voice soft, and she thought about the first time they met and his presumptions about her.

 

Apparently, she was well on her way to getting rid of those and replacing them with something much more positive.

 

She bit down on her bottom lip and shifted her gaze to the window she knew belonged to her music room, her piano just on the other side. She was itching to get there and finish putting the final touches on the song she was composing.

 

“You sure you don’t want to come with me?” She asked, nodding toward her house. “There’s a song I’ve been working on. I could use an opinion.”

 

He followed her gaze to the house.

 

“I don’t know, Princess.” She watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, turning back to look at her. “I still need to go see my sister. She’s probably worried about me by now.”

 

He looked down at the ground and she knew he was only half telling the truth, but she didn’t want to call him on it. Not when they were just starting to find common ground.

 

She nodded and looked out at the ocean, the water stretching into the seeable distance, unblemished by any human dwellers. A part of her longed to stay out here, feel the breeze against her skin, the water at her feet - Would he stay with her then?

 

“I’ll see you around?” His deep voice asked, genuinely curious and she felt the chill bumps rise on her arm as he ran a fingertip from her shoulder to her elbow, drawing her attention back to him.

 

His eyes were dark and full of something that she didn’t know him well enough to recognize just yet and she found herself nodding and clearing her throat.

 

“Uh- Yeah. You will.” She smiled a closed-mouth smile, tilting her lips just enough to convince him.

 

“Good.” He smirked.

 

She watched as he turned away, walking back in the direction they had come from, his head down as the wind whipped his t-shirt against his torso.

 

A part of her ached as he left, urged her to run after him, to call his name and bring him to a stop once more.

 

Instead, she sighed and turned toward the house, walking slowly and sadly up the hill.

 

There would be a next time.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


And there was a next time.

 

And a next... and a next.

 

Over the next two weeks, she saw Bellamy several times.

 

The very next day, he was bartending at the All White Party her mother dragged her to.

 

She spent the entire party huddled in the corner with some vapid group of girls who chatted on aimlessly about shoes, absently nodding when she guessed it was appropriate and sneaking glances at Bellamy serving drinks across the backyard.

 

He looked so _handsome_ in all white, and she was taken back to that day at the beginning of the summer when she noticed how the crisp white button down looked so good against his dark, freckled skin. The tendons in his forearms flexed as he hefted the heavy bottles of alcohol and she found her breathing deepen unexpectedly as her mind immediately started to wander to dark places, imagining those same tendons flexing as his big hands gripped her thighs -

 

She’d had to excuse herself at that point, searching for any kind of distraction that would actually keep her attention. Glancing over at Bellamy, his eyes met hers and he watched as she made her way across the party, his gaze shifting to her dress, the hemline falling at her fingertips.

 

When she’d finally found Wells, he rolled his eyes at the flush covering her chest and called her out on it.

 

“Why not just go _talk_ to him? It’s becoming a little sad watching the two of you stare at one another longingly while the other isn’t looking.”

 

Her head snapped up.

 

“He is _not._ ” She paused. “Is he?”

 

Wells rolled his eyes and dropped the subject, refusing to “fuel her ridiculous attempts to pretend to be uninterested.”

 

That had been a party she would never forget.

 

Unfortunately, she hadn’t seen him again for another two days. After two days of following her mother’s itinerary to the letter, Clarke ditched an afternoon swaray early, pulling Wells along with her and refusing to tell her mother.

 

She would be fine.

 

They made it to the bar by 8:30 and when they got there, Miller and Bellamy where working the bar and Raven was chilling at the end of the long bartop.

 

“Griffin!” Raven had greeted her when she walked in.

 

She couldn’t help but watch Bellamy as he reacted to her name. The way his back stiffened as he was turned away from them told her that he heard Raven’s greeting, but he continued what he was doing instead of turning around to acknowledge them.

 

Eventually, when he finished his rounds with the patrons, he made his way over to where they had all congregated, a towel slung over his left shoulder, and leaned his elbow on the bar about a foot away from her.

 

“Hey Princess.” He said, smirk in place, eyes lingering dark and heavy.

 

She stopped breathing for a moment, the humidity in the bar overwhelming her, the hum of the crowd dimming to a lull in the background of her mind.

 

A throat cleared and Bellamy straightened somewhat, leaning on his hand instead of his elbow.

 

“Wells.” He said in response, nodding at her best friend that he had apparently only just noticed.

 

Wells snorted.

 

“Yeah, whatever, don’t pretend that you’re even remotely interested in my being here. We know better.”

 

She flushed at Wells’ comment and reached over to slap him upside the head.

 

“Ouch. Damn. Just saying.”

 

Raven leaned over and plucked at Wells collar, the lime green polo glaringly bright in the dim lighting of the bar.

 

“Still trying to impress us all, I see.” She raised an eyebrow. “You know, I think Bellamy has some extra t-shirts in the back.”

 

Wells chuckled uncomfortably, pulling at his collar.

 

“We came from a party back at the house.” Wells said in explanation.

 

Raven smiled.

 

“Of course you did. We should go shopping, Jaha. Get you some car clothes.”

 

“Car clothes?” Wells asked, voice uncertain, and Clarke couldn’t help but grin at her friend’s confusion and comfort level.

 

“Yeah, as in clothes you keep in your car to change into in case of emergency. Like going to a bar with your friends.”

 

Clarke watched Wells eyes furrow in further confusion. She looked over at Bellamy who was watching the scene play out with clear amusement coloring his features.

 

“You keep clothes… in your car?”

 

Raven rolled her eyes and laid her arm around his shoulders.

 

“We have much to teach you, kid.”

 

When Clarke turned back to Bellamy, she was only slightly surprised to find his attention had shifted from Wells and Raven’s blossoming friendship to the crease in her cleavage she had inadvertently created as she leaned against the bar top, her dress exposing the tops of her breasts unintentionally.

 

She waited until he finally looked up again to silently raise an eyebrow, and instead of having the sense to look ashamed of his attentions, he grinned salaciously, unapologetic in his obviousness.

 

She couldn’t help but giggle, secretly pleased by his interest.

 

They went back to The Bunker twice more that first week, and by the third time, Wells wasn’t even wearing a collared shirt. It was still branded with Tommy Hilfiger but at least Raven didn’t have something to tug at and tease him about.

 

At first, she considered maybe Raven might have a thing for Wells, but Miller told her that Raven was pretty hung up on that realtor she had mentioned the first time she met her, but the lady in question was already in a relationship.

 

It made Raven’s desire to push Bellamy and Clarke together in every social situation make sense. She was living vicariously through the two of them.

 

Every night she returned to the bar, Bellamy became a little more open with her. He would smile a little more, stare a little more, but even still, she could tell that he was holding himself back for whatever reason. He obviously had hesitations to be around her too much or find himself too attached, and Clarke wanted to believe it wasn’t because of her, necessarily. She had a feeling it still had something to do with her status, instead.

 

So she kept bringing herself around, forcing him to see her for who she really was and not who she was in society. And she forced _herself_ to smile as he kept her at arms-length, being friendly but never acting on those heated stares he would send her way.

 

The second week, Raven shot her a text early on Monday to tell her that the group was planning to go out dancing for Bellamy’s birthday that Wednesday and that she and Wells were expected to attend.

 

She bit down on her bottom lip as she lay in her large bed and decided how to best get out of her obligations for a Wednesday evening. She had wanted to go to Open Mic night again the next day but if she wanted to get out of Wednesday, she would have to be on her very best behavior for Monday and Tuesday.

 

So she sent a text to Raven telling her as much and while her new friend grumbled about it, she at least understood. When she told Wells, his immediate reaction was to refuse but Clarke knew she would be able to talk him into it by the time Wednesday rolled around.

 

And she did.

 

She told their parents that she and Wells were going out with Raven and Sinclair for the evening and since Sinclair never went to social events, it was easy enough to lie about.

 

They all met at The Bunker and carpooled into different vehicles, and somehow, she ended up with Bellamy, riding shotgun in his Jeep with the windows down. The salt off the ocean whooshed into the vehicle, taking her breath away as they all laughed and sang along to the music on the radio. Bellamy apparently had a thing for modern bluegrass, so they listen to Mumford and Sons on the drive and she tried to sneak glances at his small smile as he enjoyed his friends’ company.

 

When they pulled into the parking lot of a small establishment with the sounds of a live band blaring from the inside, she was pleasantly surprised, having expected “dancing” to be code for a club. It made sense then why Raven told her to just wear something casual and she felt much better about her decision to wear her mint green sundress with the thin shoulder straps.

 

The band turned out to be a bluegrass band she had never heard of and they immediately took to the floor to join the rest of the crowded establishment in their dancing. They would stop on occasion and have drinks, but Clarke sipped shyly on her fruity non-alcoholic drink and watched the rest of the group minus Wells become happily buzzed.

 

She had never really seen Bellamy buzzed before but she found that he became very happy. She had never seen him smile so much.

 

At one point, she was dancing with Raven to an upbeat tune, twirling carefree on the patio under the stars of the night sky, when she felt his gaze, even across the room. When her eyes raised to meet his, he was smiling a small tilt of his lips, blatantly watching her with that heated stare of his.

 

Looking down somewhat, she blushed and bit down on her bottom lip only to find that his gaze was unwavering, staring with interest as she grinned and looked away, giggling and continuing her dance with Raven.

 

Later in the evening, she was sitting at the end of the bar, resting. Her hair was falling out of her braid all over the place and sweat was glistening across the exposed skin of her upper body, her dress clinging to her skin. The cool, polished surface of the bar felt good against her forearms and she jumped with surprise when she felt a hand wrap around her waist from behind, thick fingers gripping her stomach and pulling her backwards into a hard chest.

 

“Having a good time, Princess?” His deep voice spoke directly into her ear, his lips brushing the shell and causing shivers to race down her spine.

 

“Yeah.” Was her response, her voice husky and unfamiliar.

 

His left hand came into her vision, coming up to rest on the edge of the bar, trapping her in between his grip on her waist and his forearm that grazed her left shoulder.

 

“I’m glad you came with us.” He admitted.

 

She felt his mouth leave her ear, his lips trailing lightly down the side of her neck, and her breath became stilted and uneven.

 

“Are you? I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to be here.”

 

His lips were gone then, his grip turning her in his arms so that she was facing him on the bar stool, his gaze hooded. He was so far gone now, she wondered if he would even remember this the next morning and her heart broke a little at the fact that he seemed to need to be in this state before he could get close to her.

 

Fingertips reached outward and he stroked her face softly, pushing her messy strands of hair out of his way as he admired her eyes.

 

“I’ll always want you to be here. That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

 

Her breath hitched as she registered what he said, his admission shocking and unexpected.

 

“YO, BLAKE! Stop crowding the girl, we’ve got an appointment on the dance floor!”

 

Clarke sighed and chuckled in spite of the tension that Raven unwittingly broke through in her inebriation. She felt the other girl tug on her hand and pull her off the bar stool.

 

Bellamy’s left hand came up to grip her forearm as she left him and he slowly let go as she was pulled in the opposite direction, his fingers tracing a path all the way to her own until finally he had to let go.

 

At the end of the night, she rode back in Bellamy’s Jeep with Wells at the wheel as Bellamy had drank much more than he anticipated. She and Bellamy sat in the back seat, the window blowing in from the shore and whipping his hair around his face. She tried to fight the urge to look in his direction, but it was hard when she could feel him staring at her from his place across the seat.

 

When she finally gave in and looked his way, he just smiled, unapologetic yet again.

 

Wells dropped her off first, planning to take Bellamy’s Jeep back to his pace where Monty, the other DD was planning to pick him up and take him to his convertible.

 

She watched them drive away, her heart beating fast, as she wondered about Bellamy’s soft spoken words.

  


—-

  


It was Friday, almost two weeks after he’d walked her home on the beach that afternoon, and she still found herself pondering his drunken admission from his birthday.

 

_I’ll always want you to be here. That’s the problem, isn’t it?_

 

On the surface, she could see it for what it was.

 

She would be leaving at the end of the summer, wouldn’t she?

 

And yet, she couldn’t stop herself from feeling whatever it was she felt for Bellamy even if she tried.

 

He was like a whirlwind.

 

Ever since they met, her heart raced at the mere thought of seeing him, the possibility of being around him, feeling the warmth of his skin near her own.

 

They were like warring factions, opposite sides of some sort of class war - Romeo and Juliet. You could see the end coming a mile away and even though it would undoubtedly be a huge explosion, it was one you couldn’t look away from

 

She knew exactly what he meant and the reasons he stayed away but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She wanted him to be just as overwhelmed as she was, to throw caution to the wind.

 

So that’s how she found herself taking her mother’s Prius Friday around lunch time to The Bunker, planning to just show up and shock him into talking to her.

 

Of course, she never considered the fact that Bellamy wasn't there ALL the time.

 

Miller was there though, since it was his dad’s bar.

 

She walked in, the blinding sunshine casting a glow across the wooden floor of the bar, who’s open wall to the back patio wasn’t quite facing the glow of the sunshine now that it was midday.

 

Miller looked up as soon as she walked in, smiling when he realized who had opened the door.

 

“Hey, Clarke! Good to see you here while the sun’s still out.” He greeted cheerfully, cleaning a glass.

 

There were only three other people in the establishment, two at the bar and one sitting out on the patio smoking and looking toward the ocean waves.

 

“Nice to see you too, Miller.” She smiled slightly, moving forward to perch herself on her usual bar stool.

 

“Nothing going on today on the social calendar?” He asked dryly, raising an eyebrow at her unusual appearance.

 

She sighed.

 

“We had a lunch thing but it was canceled so I thought I would drop by.”

 

He grinned and placed the glass down below the bar.

 

“To see Bellamy.”

 

Her head jerked up, her eyes wide and her cheeks red.

 

“Uh I mean, I’m-“

 

Miller laughed.

 

“It’s okay, Griffin.” He shrugged and started wiping down the bar top in front of him. “I’m not insulted. In fact, Bellamy’s going to be just as sad he wasn’t here when you dropped by.”

 

She coughed and cleared her throat, laughing somewhat.

 

“I just needed to talk to him about something he said the other night is all.” She chuckled. “Can’t believe I thought he would spend his whole day here though.”

 

Miller grinned but continued to clean the bar.

 

“Well, in your favor, he does seem to spend _most_ of his time here.” He flipped the rag up and across his shoulder. “But, during the day, he works at his other jobs.”

 

She nodded and picked at the wood of the bar with her thumbnail nervously.

 

“So he’s working an event today?” She asked, sad she hadn’t thought to ask her mother about what else was happening that day in the Hamptons.

 

But Miller shook his head and crossed his arms across his chest.

 

“Nah. His other job. He’s at the construction site.”

 

Clarke sat up straighter, her eyebrows raising in surprise.

 

“Bellamy works in construction?” She honestly had no idea. They hadn’t really had a lot of personal conversations - What with Bellamy keeping his distance and all that.

 

“Part-time. Good at everything, that one.”

 

Clarke nodded. She could see that.

 

Suddenly, Bellamy’s muscular arms and torso made more sense and made her heart race even more. Images of Bellamy covered in sweat, a hammer hanging in his belt loop crowded her mind. She wanted to feel bad about objectifying him that way, but seriously? How could her mind _not_ go straight there?

 

“Got ya. Well, that’s fine. It wasn’t that urgent.” She sighed and stood up from her place at the bar.

 

Miller’s eyebrow raised.

 

“You sure?”

 

She nodded and picked up her phone from the bar, shoving it in her back pocket.

 

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll see you guys again soon. No worries.” She smiled in his direction and he returned the gesture.

 

On her way to the door, his voice stopped her once more.

 

“Did you want to leave him a message?” He asked, his voice carrying across the room.

 

She turned slowly, considering his words for a second before deciding on her response.

 

“Uh, yeah. Tell him-” She sighed again. “Tell him that I don’t really think its a problem. That time well spent isn’t time wasted.”

 

His face morphed then, confusion etched into his features, but she just smiled and continued her trek to her car.

 

 

 

* * *

  
  
  
  


Sunday rolled around and she had a blessed day off, but her mother insisted that she stick around the house and be social.

 

“Family time, Clarke.” She said. “We don’t have enough of it.”

 

So there she sat in the family room, playing a game of Monopoly with Marcus and Wells while her mother read some sort of political autobiography on the couch. She didn’t want to seem ungrateful for her mother actually giving her some kind of attention for once, but she was so miserable.

 

She pretended to be excited that she owned both dark blue properties, but really she was mourning the fact that she could be texting Raven and figuring out what the rest of their friends were up to that day.

 

Everytime she looked at Wells, it was like he could read her mind, and he stared her down, telling her wordlessly to play nice.

 

She sighed and paid Marcus the rent for landing on Oriental Avenue without complaint, even though it housed a hotel.

 

It was then Marcus noticed her lack of interest.

 

“We don’t have to finish if you don’t want to, Clarke.” He consoled.

 

Her fake smile came then, unbidden.

 

“No, it’s fine.”

 

Marcus gave her a look that showed his disbelief but she ignored him in favor of picking apart the strands of soft down on the shag rug underneath her.

 

“You’ve been spending a lot of time in the music room lately.” Marcus said suddenly, eager to carry on a conversation. “Any new music to play for us?”

 

She froze, swallowing down her instinctual reaction of denial in an effort to seem unaffected and aloof.

 

“Uh, not really. Just playing around.”

 

She didn’t look up, but she could still feel his eyes on her face, looking for signs of _something._

 

But her mother spoke up before he could say anything further.

 

“Honestly, Clarke, I’m not sure why you spend so much time up there. You should be here with us, making connections and preparing for your first semester at Princeton.”

 

Clenching her teeth together, she felt something tap her foot and looked up to see Wells face, features drawn tight, a slight shake of his head.

 

She breathed out and decided maybe Wells was wrong. Maybe this was the time to say something.

 

“What if-” She paused, still feeling Marcus look at her from across the Monopoly board. “What if I didn’t want to go to Princeton?”

 

She thought maybe there would be silence.

 

Perhaps even yelling or an angry raising of voices, but her mother’s laughter completely took her by surprise.

 

“You’re so silly, sweetheart.”

 

When she turned to look up at the couch, she noticed that her mother was still buried in her book.

 

She hadn’t even looked up to acknowledge the comment.

 

“I’m serious, mom.” Clarke said, her voice stronger than before.

 

At that, her mother’s eyes finally drifted up from the pages of her book to stare at her daughter from across the top of the cover.

 

“No. You’re not.” Abby said sharply, leaving no room for argument.

 

And yet, she persisted.

 

“I am.” Clarke returned, her tone heated and now, angry.

 

“No, you’re not.” Abby said again, closing her book with a snap, throwing it onto the couch and sitting up. “Because it’s not a _choice,_ Clarke. You’re _going_ to Princeton. You’re going to study pre-med and _that_ has absolutely nothing to do with what you _want._ ”

 

Her mother’s voice hadn’t raised in the slightest. Cold and unfeeling, she stated all of her rant in the most even tone possible. Clarke wouldn’t have thought she was affected at all if she hadn’t actually looked up from her book.

 

She could feel the tears at the corner of her eyes, threatening to fall, angry and hot, but she refused to cry in front of them.

 

She stood suddenly, her toes in the carpet grounding her as she felt like she was about to lose it, crushing disappointment and rage flowing through her.

 

Turning, she walked briskly from the room, making it all the way to the music room before she collapsed on the chaise lounge next to her piano. Burrowing her face in the pillow, she sobbed, finally letting the tears that wanted to fall run down her face and pool on the fabric beneath her.

 

“Clarke.”

 

She had been expecting someone to follow her, of course, but she had thought it would be Wells.

 

Instead, when she peeked up from where she had buried herself, she saw Marcus standing uncertainly in the doorway to her music room.

 

It felt so strange seeing him there.

 

She wanted to scream at him, tell him to leave her alone. That she didn’t want him there. Didn’t want him to be in this sacred space that she called home.

 

Choosing not to respond, she wiped at her tears instead and sat up gingerly, staring him down, daring him to speak. To tell her that she was being silly or dramatic.

 

“I know she seems unreasonable.” He started and it took everything inside of her not to scream. “But she’s only doing what she thinks is best for you. For your future.”

 

She bit down on the inside of her cheek so hard she could taste blood.

 

“Just give her some time and-”

 

“Leave.” She said, her voice soft, barely above a whisper.

 

She didn’t want to hear this and she didn’t _have_ to either.

 

Marcus opened and closed his mouth, nodded once, and then left the room without another word.

 

She didn’t even wait for him to be out of earshot before she started crying once more, her body shaking with the force of her sobs.

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


She didn’t see her mother or Marcus again that day or the next.

 

By the time Tuesday rolled around, she had all but barricaded herself in the music room and only spoke to Wells who dropped by and occasionally a text to Raven.

 

And then her new friend texted her Tuesday morning as she lay in bed.

 

**Raven** _You know what’s actually a proven way to vent off frustration of an overbearing mother who doesn’t understand you?_

 

She raised an eyebrow at the other girl’s text.

 

**Clarke** _What’s that?_

 

**Raven** _Singing your ass off at Open Mic night to the guy you’re crazy about._

 

She huffed, burrowing further into the pillow behind her.

 

**Clarke** _I’m not crazy about Bellamy._

 

**Raven** _Who says I was talking about Bellamy?_

 

She threw her phone on her bed and turned around, screaming into her pillow.

 

“What’d your pillow do to you?”

 

She fluffed the pillow back down so her right eye could see over the fabric to where Wells was standing beside her bed, coffee in hand.

 

“Coffee will not make this better.” She mumbled into the pillow.

 

“I’m sorry.” He said, his hand cupped around his ear as he leaned over toward her. “What was that?”

 

She growled and sat up, pushing herself up from the sheets and grabbed the cup from his hand.

 

“What do you want?” She grumbled, taking a sip of the delicious latte confection.

 

“Well, that’s a great way to greet your best friend who got you out all social obligations today so that you could go see your boyfriend tonight.”

 

She popped up, her back straightening, and blew her hair out of her eyes.

 

“You what?” She asked, her voice incredulous.

 

“I got you out of Abby-duty for the rest of the day. I think she’s a little terrified after your whole ‘I don’t want to go to Princeton’ debacle and is scared to push you at the moment.”

 

_Well, if that’s what it took, why hadn’t she done that sooner?_

 

“You’re an angel.” She exhaled, leaning back against her padded headboard as she took another sip of her latte.

 

“Oh, the coffee did make it better after all?” He quipped, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

 

“I thought you couldn’t hear me?” She snarked back.

 

Wells chuckled.

 

“Please. I’ve been able to decipher your pillow grumbles since second grade.”

 

She rolled her eyes and kicked him through her covers, grinning as he winced, a drop of his coffee leaking through the lid onto his hand.

 

“Be nice to me, Griffin, or I’ll make you Uber to The Bunker.”

 

“Lies. It’s Tuesday, which means you would miss my next performance at Open Mic night.”

 

Wells turned towards her then, face somewhat shocked at her statement.

 

“You’re actually going to sing again?”

 

She shrugged her shoulder, her fingers picking at the lace edge of her duvet cover.

 

“The first time went well enough. Why not? It’s good practice. Besides… I may have… written another song.” She mumbled the last part under her breath.

 

“What? Already?” Wells asked, not bothering to hide his surprise.

 

She kicked the covers off her bed, taking her coffee with her as she walked out of the room, Wells not far behind her.

 

“I’ve been holed up in my music room for two days and you think I haven’t written another song?” She said, amused. “I started working on it last Friday but with no one bothering me since I ran out on ‘family time’ on Sunday, I had time to actually finish it.”

 

She opened the double doors to the music room, walking over to the piano and sitting on the hard top of the bench. Holding her latte in her left hand, she played out a simple melody with her right hand.

 

Wells plopped down into the chair next to the piano and crossed his right ankle across the top of his left thigh, leaning back in the seat.

 

“Sounds pretty.” He commented offhand.

 

She sighed.

 

“I’ll need to practice all day though. To be ready for tonight.”

 

Wells grinned.

 

“Well, good for you that you have a best friend who wakes you up before 9:00 AM. Now you have the time to practice before we leave at 8:00 this evening.”

 

She glared at him over the lid of the piano and placed her latte on the table beside her, picking up her pencil and turning to the sheet music she had finished the day before.

 

“Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky I like you, Jaha.”

 

“Not as much as you like, Bellamy, apparently.”

 

He never even saw the pencil as it flew towards the side of his head.

  


 

* * *

  
  


The bar was packed when she and Wells arrived, but she had texted Raven ahead of time so she knew to expect them.

 

When she walked through the door, Raven’s hands immediately started waving, telling her that her friend had gotten there early enough to save their favorite spots at the end of the bar.

 

Miller was there with them, filling Raven’s drink order and he nodded when he saw Clarke and Wells walking up to the bar.

 

“Griffin, Jaha, good to see you again. Usual?” He asked politely.

 

The two of them nodded and took their seats where Raven had moved her feet, allowing them to sit.

 

“Jaha, look at you! Is that a non-name brand shirt I see you wearing?” Raven teased.

 

Wells coughed, clearing his throat and nodded.

 

“Don’t let him fool you, Raven. That shirt still cost his family more than most families pay for rent in a month.”

 

Wells glared daggers at her then and she made a mental note of interest in his reaction.

 

Raven may be hung up on that realtor lady but maybe she and Wells could be good for each other. Neither would be looking for anything serious since Wells was leaving at the end of summer.

 

And his future was _definitely_ set.

 

He wanted it.

 

She tried not to make it obvious what she was doing as she looked around the bar, seemingly taking in the amount of patrons and the person who was setting up on stage.

 

“He’s in the back.” Raven said, taking a sip of her drink.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Clarke returned lightly, picking up her drink from where Miller deposited it in front of her.

 

“Sure, Jan.”

 

Clarke huffed and all but gulped the fruity, strawberry concoction down as she pretended not to sulk as she waited for Bellamy to appear.

 

Thirty minutes later, and he still hadn’t shown his face. Clarke didn’t want to think he was avoiding her, but she hadn’t heard from him since the night of his birthday.

 

“Stage is opening up after this, Clarke.” Miller mentioned when he circled back around to them. “You gonna perform tonight?”

 

She thought about saying no for a second. She really did.

 

But she came here for a reason other than Bellamy.

 

“Yeah, I guess.”

 

Miller nodded.

 

“Well, then you should go next.” He leaned in a little closer then, making sure Raven and Wells were preoccupied with another before he spoke again. “I gave him your message.”

 

Her eyes found his and he winked, smiling as he moved on to the next customer.

 

She sighed.

 

She definitely had to sing after _that._

 

“You ready?” Wells asked from her left as Raven stared over his shoulder.

 

She nodded and moved toward the stage that was now vacant.

 

A few people cheered as they noticed her approach and she felt excitement heat under her skin at the idea that there were people out there who actually remembered her performance from the week before.

 

People who were _excited_ to hear her sing again.

 

She settled in behind the ivory keys, and drug her fingertips across the smooth surface, feeling the grooves between the keys rivet underneath her fingers as she went.

 

Her right foot moved to the pedal underneath, testing its weight, tapping up and down twice before stilling once more.

 

At the last second, she looked up to see Miller exit the back room with, to her shock, Bellamy right behind him.

 

She felt her breath hitch when his eyes immediately found hers on stage. She wanted to stay there, to savor the way he was looking at her at that moment. His eyes shone with support, his mouth tugged into a small smile as he realized what she was about to do.

 

She breathed out, the microphone picking up the small movement and echoing throughout the room.

 

The noises of the room had died down once again and Miller had changed the lighting so that the stage lights were brightened once more and her view of Bellamy was suddenly cut off.

 

Seeing only herself and the blackness surrounding her on the stage, she felt herself slip into the same zone as last time.

 

Just her and the piano.

 

_And Bellamy._

 

Somehow, knowing that he was watching, _calmed_ her instead of making her nervous.

 

She wanted to do well.

 

For herself, sure. But for him too.

 

To sing for him. _To_ him.

 

So she began, the beginning chords beckoning her.

 

_Just about the time the shadows call,_

_I undress my mind and dare you do follow._

 

She sang, the stillness in her voice steady and empowering to her own nerves.

 

_A nameless face I think I see to sit and watch the waves with me til they’re gone._

_A heart I swear I’d recognize is made out of my own devices -_

_Could I be wrong?_

 

She remembered the empty feeling before she’d met Bellamy this summer. Her dreams of sitting on the front porch of her house and watching the tide roll in with some faceless dream of a person. And now?

 

She felt like that face could be taking shape - But was she making him up to be something he wasn’t?

 

_Time that I’ve taken, I pray is not wasted._

_Have I already tasted my piece of one sweet love?_

 

Thinking back on the message she left Bellamy, she hoped he could see this song for what it was.

 

A continuation.

 

_The Earth that is the space between, I’d banish from under me to get to you._

_Your unexpected love provides my solitary suicide, oh, I wish I knew…_

 

Her voice felt stronger this time, her confidence in her music only growing with her desire to perform.

 

She had always loved writing music, singing, playing… She’d had no idea how much she would love performing.

 

But as she sat on the bench, pouring her soul into the song, feeling every eye on her as she sang, her heart fluttered in her chest - A hummingbird, itching to break free.

 

_Ready and waiting for a heart worth the breaking._

_But I’d settle for an honest mistake in the name of one sweet love._

_One sweet love._

 

The final note rang out through the bar and the silence that had lingered while she performed exploded yet again into a raucous applause.

 

The lights on the stage lifted and suddenly she could see again.

 

And there he was.

 

In the exact same spot, eyes still boring into her own, a soft smile on his face.

  


\-----

  


After her performance, her friends had almost carried her off the stage until she literally hit Wells upside the head enough times that he stepped away and conceded defeat.

 

She walked up to the bar to a freshly filled drink.

 

“That one’s on the house, Griffin.” Miller said tapping the glass. “You keep those performances up, you’re gonna draw in people all summer.”

 

She blushed, her eyes shifting to Bellamy who was standing beside him, grinning.

 

“He’s right, Princess. The entire room was in awe of you.”

 

_Were you?_ She wondered.

 

“You’re too kind.” She said softly, unable to maintain eye contact with his penetrating gaze.

 

“Well, I say we celebrate!” Raven said, glass held high. “Let’s go for a day trip down the coast. A little beach I know that’s a lot less populated. What say you, Griffin?”

 

She looked up at Bellamy who had yet to look away and bit down her bottom lip, watching as he drank the movement in with interest.

 

A whole day with Bellamy?

 

“Yeah.” She said, her voice deep. “Sounds good to me.”

 

By the end of the night, the plan was drawn out and everyone was in agreement. They would meet back at the bar the next morning and drive down in Bellamy’s jeep.

 

She didn’t get many more times to speak to Bellamy, as the bar stayed busy up until the moment she left, but when she rose from her stool to follow Wells to the door, she felt a hand on her upper arm.

 

She turned to see Bellamy reaching across the bar top, his thumb rubbing gently across the skin of her arm.

 

“See you in the morning, Princess?”

 

She nodded.

 

“Yeah. See you then.”

 

He grinned.

  


* * *

  
  
  


Sleep didn’t come easy for her that evening. She felt like she was vibrating, trying to escape her own skin, she was so excited.

 

Or nervous.

 

Honestly, she wasn’t sure what emotion she was feeling.

 

All she knew was that she would be spending the day with Bellamy and she was going to use it to try and find a moment alone with him.

 

Before she knew it, sunlight was streaming in through her beautiful, east-facing windows and she shot out of bed, rushing to her closet to pick out an outfit.

 

She chewed on the side of her thumb as she looked around at the variety of summer dresses in her closet before deciding on one.

 

It was white with flowers, off the shoulder sleeves that wrapped around her upper arms and exposed all of her collar bone, shoulders, and the tops of her breasts. The skirt was loose and flowy, draping down to her ankles, but the slit in the side opened up to her upper thigh at just right angle. It was the perfect dress for a breezy day on the beach.

 

She packed her bikini in her wet bag and headed down to the kitchen to pick up a few snacks for the road.

 

She had planned to ride with Wells to the bar, but he’d texted her that morning to tell her that he would be running late and that she should just take her mom’s Prius and he would see her there.

 

It was a little odd, sure, but she just shrugged it off and made off with her mom’s car.

 

She’d thought about telling her mom she would be out of town for the day, but decided against it.

 

She didn’t care.

 

When she pulled into the parking lot of The Bunker, the only car she saw was Bellamy’s Jeep and her eyebrows knit together in confusion as she pulled into the space beside him.

 

Stepping out of the car, her wet bag slung over her shoulder, she walked to the back of Bellamy’s Jeep and waited.

 

Not ten seconds later, Bellamy himself burst out of the doors of the bar, a shy look on his face.

 

He walked toward her, his eyes studying her as he did. She watched them linger on her exposed throat and noticed the way his tongue reached out to swipe across his bottom lip.

 

He shook his head when he finally reached her and ran his fingers through his hair.

 

“I just got off the phone with Raven.” He started. “Apparently she came down with something this morning and won’t be joining us.”

 

“Wasn’t this all her idea?” She asked, amused.

 

Her phone dinged at that exact moment and she pulled it from her pocket.

 

**Wells** _Looks like I won’t be able to go after all. You guys have fun without me!_

 

She sighed.

 

“Wells too.” She held the phone up for him to see.

 

He smirked, chuckling lightly as he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket.

 

_Hey Man,_

 

_Didn’t go home till late tonight, don’t think I’ll be feelin’ up to the trip tomorrow. You guys go ahead._

 

_Miller_

 

Understanding dawned on her face as her eyes left the paper and found Bellamy’s again.

 

“This is a set up.” She mumbled, feeling embarrassed about the whole plan their friends had concocted.

 

“Hey, hey, Princess.” He said softly, his arms coming up to rest on her shoulders, his thumbs rubbing those maddening circles into the hollows outside her collarbone. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

 

He looked so earnest when he said it, she knew he was serious.

 

“Do _you_ want to?” She asked.

 

She would go anywhere with him, but she didn’t want to make him spend time with her if he didn’t want to.

 

He chuckled again, his hands dropping from her skin and falling to burrow in his pant pockets.

 

“Time well spent isn’t time wasted, right?” He asked and she felt her face light up at his teasing grin, echoing her words back to her. “I’d consider any time spent with you the best way to spend my time, Princess.”

 

She blushed and grinned, looking up at him beneath her lashes.

 

“Good to know. You ready?” She asked.

 

“Yeah.” He breathed. “I think so.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


The ride in his Jeep was wide open and carefree, the wind completely messing up her carefully messy bun.

 

They drove about two hours down the coast until they got to a beach she’d never been to. Luckily, there was a place for them to change, but there were only two or three people out on the sand and no one in the water.

 

When she emerged from the small changing shack, Bellamy was already standing down at the edge of the water in his swim trunks.

 

She had thrown on a cover up on top of her black bathing suit. The top was extra supportive, a halter tie ensuring that the girls would stay encased. It had a low cut front with small straps connecting the sides of the cups that showed off her fantastic cleavage while also giving her a peace of mind.

 

When he noticed her appear beside him, he turned to face her, smile in place.

 

“I haven’t gotten to just go to the beach in _ages._ What do you want to do?”

 

She shrugged and played with the hem of her cover up, biting down on her lip.

 

“Let’s just go swim.”

 

Before she could change her mind, she reached down and pulled her cover up off and over her head, throwing it on the sand behind her.

 

Bellamy didn’t even try to hide his reaction to her disrobing, his eyes immediately dropping to her exposed skin, drinking in every inch he could see.

 

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you, Princess?” He asked, his voice low and serious.

 

His eyes darkened considerably and he took a step closer.

 

“Not really.” She grinned, shrugging a shoulder playfully. “But what a way to die, huh?”

 

He laughed out loud, his hands reaching out to wrap around her waist and she tutted, pulling out of his embrace and backing up toward the water.

 

“Nuh uh. I came here to swim. I’m going to swim.” She declared before turning and running toward the water.

 

She heard him swear behind her and she laughed when she made it to knee deep water and suddenly felt his arms wrap around her from behind, lifting her from the ground. She squealed and slapped at his hands but he only laughed and buried his face in the side of her neck.

 

“Bellamy Blake, put me down this instant!” She screamed, indignant.

 

“Thought you wanted to swim, Princess?” He spoke directly in her ear and kept his hold as he walked the two of them further out into the waves.

 

“Bellamy!” She squealed again.

 

“Alright, as you wish.” He said and suddenly, he flung her out into the deep waves, and she found herself sinking underneath the water.

 

She sputtered as she stood up, barely able to reach above the water on her tiptoes.

 

So much for her perfectly messy bun.

 

“I will _kill_ you!” She declared, trying and failing to move in his direction quickly, as walking on her tiptoes made things much slower.

 

He was grinned at her, the water up to his chest.

 

Walking up to her, he put his hands around her waist again, pulling her into him so her breasts pressed up against his bare chest, and picked her up off her feet.

 

Her legs wrapped around his waist automatically and her arms circled his neck, clinging to him, trying to escape the deep water.

 

Once her breathing calmed, she noticed the way his breathing had deepend, his chest rising and falling, the material of her bikini top rubbing back and forth across her nipples that had hardened in the coolness of the water.

 

His right hand drifted up her back, sliding slowly along her skin, up and under the strings tying it together and holding her against him.

 

She shifted just so and inhaled sharply at the feeling of his hard dick against her core.

 

Apparently her bathing suit had done its job.

 

_Good to know._

 

“What’s the matter, Princess? I thought you wanted to swim.” He murmured, his hair wet, water dripping down the smooth contours of his face.

 

Her right hand left its place at the back of his neck and traced slowly down his chest until the palm of her hand rested over his beating heart, his pulse so much higher than normal, matching her own.

 

She could stay here all day, pressed up against Bellamy.

 

It felt like home.

 

She grinned.

 

“I do.” She pushed out of his arms and immediately started swimming closer to the shore where she could stand better.

 

“Where are you going?” She heard him call after her.

 

She turned around when she was able to stand, the water just below her breasts.

 

“Are you coming?” She asked, breathless.

 

He stared for a moment, his eyes smiling back, until he shook his head laughing.

 

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

 

And just like that, maybe she had finally broken through.

  


 

* * *

  
  
  


They swam for hours, only retreating from the water to lay out on their towels and dry off for thirty minutes at a time as they people-watched.

 

A few more groups had shown up since they arrived, but there still weren’t as many people as she was used to seeing back in the Hamptons.

 

For the most part, they kept their hands to themselves, but she would occasionally touch his chest and he would leave his hand on her lower back, making sure she was close at all times.

 

They were innocent touches, comparatively, to earlier in the water, and yet she could still feel her blood heating up at the small movements.

 

As they lay out on their conjoined towels one last time before leaving, he suddenly flipped over onto his side, his hand wrapping around her waist and pulling her over and into him. Her hand came up to rest on his chest and her breath momentarily left her.

 

“Yes?” She asked, her voice breathy and inquisitive.

 

He hummed, his fingers gripping her skin, lightly massaging her waist before he traced them up and down her side.

 

She shivered at his touch and watched his eyes darken as they dropped to where her nipples were once again pressing against the material of her top.

 

“Nothing.” He said and just his voice made her want to moan. “Just wanted to look at you.”

 

And then he did. She felt the chills increase as his eyes roamed over her skin, taking her in. She wanted to press herself up against him and beg him to touch her, to stop teasing her with his promising stares.

 

She grinned mischievously, her hand moving up to wrap around his neck.

 

“And?” She said lowly. “Satisfied?”

 

He chuckled and pushed her over onto her back, rolling on top of her, his knee digging into the pliable ground beneath her towel between her legs.

 

“You have no idea, Princess.”

 

She smiled, her eyes falling to his lips.

 

“I might.” She whispered.

 

He leaned down, and she closed her eyes, prepared to finally feel his lips against hers.

 

But then her phone blared beside them on the towel and they both jumped at the interruption, her forehead bumping into his and both of them wincing at the contact.

 

“ _Fuck._ ” She exhaled, her hand rubbing the skin there.

 

She could hear Bellamy’s laugh even through his own discomfort.

 

“Here. Let me help.” He mumbled and brought his thumb up to her forehead, massaging out the pain.

 

“Thanks.” She said with a groan before she pushed up on her elbows, trying to ignore the way Bellamy’s eyes immediately fell to the way it propped up her breasts in favor of searching for the noisy device.

 

Picking up her phone, she let out a frustrated moan when she saw it was a text from her mother.

 

**Mom** _Where are you? I can’t believe you would just leave the house and not tell me where you are. We have_ **_plans,_ ** _Clarke._

 

She exhaled harshly and threw her phone in her bag.

 

“Time to go then?” She heard Bellamy ask and she turned, nodding a sad affirmative.

 

He stood, pulling her up with him and pulled her closer.

 

“Alright. We’ll go. But there’s a place I want to stop on the way back.”

 

She looked up at him curiously but he just shook his head.

 

“You’ll see.” He smirked when she huffed impatiently. “Don’t pout, Princess. It’s not a good look on you.”

 

Grinning, she leaned up, pulling his cheek down and leaving a lingering kiss on his jaw, breathing against his ear.

 

“Don’t kid yourself. Everything looks good on me.”

 

She turned then, walking toward the changing shack, hearing Bellamy’s laugh all the way across the sand.

  


\---

  


The place he was referring to ended up being an overlook off the highway that had an amazing view of the shore below and a little white bench that looked like it had been there for decades.

 

She sat comfortably on top of the wood, careful to sit on the fabric of her dress to avoid splinters, and examined the surface. Names and initials were carved into the wood, people who had found this spot before them.

 

A part of her longed to know who the people were and what their stories were. What brought them to this spot too?

 

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Bellamy asked as he sat down beside her, nodding out at the view of the ocean.

 

“It really is.” She sighed, enjoying the sound of the waves crashing on the rocky shoreline. “How did you know about this place?”

 

He pushed his sunglasses up into his hair and rubbed at his eyes.

 

“I grew up on these beaches. I know all of the beautiful places.” He turned, smiling smugly at her.

 

“I see.” She murmured, turning back to the ocean, willing her bravery to stick around for a little while longer. “When I came to the bar on Friday, Miller said you were at your other day job.” She turned to look at the side of his face. “How long have you worked in construction?”

 

He shrugged.

 

“Since I was about 13, unofficially. I’ve always been good with my hands.” He turned then, wiggling his eyebrows at her and she slapped his upper arm, trying to keep herself from laughing.

 

“I’m sure you are.” She conceded and paused before asking her next probing question. “How old are you exactly?”

 

She knew it could be construed as a rude question, but she probably should have already asked it at this point.

 

Not that it would’ve changed her mind or her feelings.

 

“22.” He answered without hesitation.

 

What must it be like, she wondered, to be 22 and have your own agenda? Be able to do what you wanted and live the life you want?

 

“I can see your wheels turning, Princess.” He laughed. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” He wondered.

 

She considered telling him but decided to ask another question instead.

 

“Did you go to college?”

 

His eyebrows rose in surprise and she could tell he wasn’t expecting this little visit to get into their life stories.

 

“I’m _in_ college.” He said. “Online classes.” He sighed, settling back on his hands against the wood. “I’ve been in college classes since I graduated high school, but it’s taking longer because I work so many jobs. The jobs pay for the classes though and give me a little money to put away to take care of bills and what not.”

 

She watched his face as he spoke and didn’t want to get too deep into topics he didn’t want to talk about but she was just so curious to know everything about him.

 

“So it’s just you and Octavia?” She asked, patient and inquisitive.

 

At first he didn’t answer, but he didn’t look angry either, so she waited.

 

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “My mom passed away when I was 17 and it was just the two of us after that. She left us a little bit of money but I’ve been determined not to touch it. I put it all away into a savings account so that Octavia can go wherever she wants when she graduates high school next year.”

 

Her heart stopped as he spoke about his mom.

 

17 years old and suddenly responsible for a 12 year old? She couldn’t imagine.

 

“So you work your way through college so that your sister doesn't have to?” She whispered, the awe in her voice apparent.

 

“It’s not that big a deal, Princess. I did what needed to be done.”

 

Her hand moved, falling on top of his on the bench, gripping tightly.

 

He moved his hand so his palm was facing upwards and she gripped him instantly, holding his hand like he was her lifeline.

 

“My mom has my whole life planned out.” She spoke, her voice low and vulnerable.

 

He had been honest with her, had shared a part of him that he didn’t need to. She could do the same.

 

His face turned to her then, his eyes warm and understanding.

 

“I’m supposed to go to Princeton in the fall and start my Pre-med undergrad. Make connections and hang out at all the alumni socials.” She snorted angrily “I know I sound privileged, and I am.”

 

“You’re not, Clarke. You’re not like those other people.” He said and she looked up, the heat in his voice taking her by surprise.

 

“I- I know. But that doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t matter what I want. That I want to sing, to play my music. Come the end of the summer, I’ll do what I’m supposed to.”

 

His eyes were so sad, she almost couldn’t bare to look at him, but his hand cupped her face and kept her in place.

 

“You don’t have to.” He said, his voice deep and reassuring.

 

“You don’t have to either.” Was her response.

 

_It’s not the same,_ neither of them said.

 

Even though she could hear it in the air between them.

 

The sound of a seagull landing on a nearby boulder down on the sand brought them out of their trance and she sighed, dropping his hand and standing from the bench.

 

“We’d better go. My mother will send police.”

 

Bellamy nodded, standing beside her.

 

“I actually don’t doubt that for a second.”

 

She laughed lightly at his jab at her mom and appreciated his efforts to lighten her mood.

 

“Wait!” She said suddenly. “Before we go, do you have a knife?”

 

He looked confused but he pulled a pocket knife out of his pocket anyways.

 

She grinned and leaned down, quickly carving into the wooden leg of the bench.

 

When she finished, she stepped back to let them admire her work.

 

There in the aging wood was their mark on this sport, just like all of those who had visited it before them.

 

_BB & CG _

 

She had even etched a little heart beneath it.

 

Bellamy chuckled and pulled her in close, his arm wrapped around her shoulder as he kissed her forehead.

 

When they were back in Bellamy’s Jeep and on the road, she reached over and grabbed his right hand, bringing it to her thigh and placing it there, her hand on top of his, his palm rough against her soft skin.

 

He looked over at her, catching her gaze.

 

She smiled softly and turned to look out the window as the wind from the open roof whipped through her hair, the heat of his hand warming the exposed skin on her thigh and reminding her that he was still there.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just can't get over how soft this story is. 
> 
> I don't even know where it's coming from as I've never written anything like this in my life.
> 
> Hope you're enjoying the pics and musical inspiration! I know several people have actually started a playlist to keep up with the music and that's super cool.
> 
> Next chapter, Bellamy has a surprise for Clarke and Clarke breaks out the guitar for the first time.
> 
> I imagine Clarke in this fic to be a mix of Sara Bareilles and Taylor Swift - Hope that's coming across in the story!
> 
> Leave me some comments and let me know what you guys think! You know I love to read them.
> 
> Also, follow me @MallidayWrites on Twitter and vote for which romantic comedy I'll remix for my RomComREMIX series next!
> 
> Until next Sunday...
> 
> -Mally


	5. You Must Like Me For Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late in the day this time but it's still Sunday Funday for me!
> 
> Mother's Day is important for me :)
> 
> Love my mom!
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**You Must Like Me For Me**

**"Kiss Me: by Ed Sheeran**

**"Enchanted" by Taylor Swift**

 

****

 

The summer nights were hazy and sticking together the way her sundresses clung to her skin on the particularly hot days.

 

She wasn’t able to make it to The Bunker every night, as her mother's watchful gaze had become more increasingly watchful. She wasn’t being careful, admittedly, as she had definitely ditched many obligations since Bellamy’s birthday in order to be around her friends.

 

To be around him.

 

The sun was always hot in the summer sky but when it went down, the gust of wind was just enough to keep the evenings a little more cool and she longed to get Bellamy to the beach at night so she could use the chill as an excuse to snuggle into his side and urge him to hold her.

 

Alas, her visits to The Bunker slowed down after one fateful morning when she was eating a bowl of cereal at the kitchen island, watching the episode of her favorite show that she’d missed the night before in favor of going to the bar.

 

Her mother walked in and she could feel the woman’s eyes on her, but she chose to steadfastly ignore her in favor of staring at the screen, concentrating on what was happening on the show.

 

Apparently her mother didn’t get the memo that she was ignoring her.

 

“You were home late last night, Clarke.”

 

Her voice held just a tinge of retribution and Clarke had to literally bite her tongue to keep herself from saying something smart back. Best to stay in her mother’s good graces so she could keep seeing her friends.

 

“Yeah, Raven is a great entertainer.” She said, glancing up with a small, tight-lipped smile.

 

She could practically feel her mother’s pursed lips frowning distastefully at her short response and obvious obliviousness.

 

“I do like Raven.” She heard the _but_ before she could even continue. “But she’s been taking you away from your family a lot lately.”

 

Clarke’s teeth clenched silently as she waited for mother’s inevitable ultimatum.

 

“I just think maybe you should spend a little more time with Kane and I. And I know Wells misses you when you go off with Raven without him.”

 

 _Wells is perfectly welcome to join us anytime he wants,_ she thought to herself.

 

Wells was ever the perfect son though, attending many more family obligations than she was in spite of his enjoyment with Raven and her friends.

 

“There’s a party at the Gatlan family’s house tonight. Be ready to leave by 7:00.”

 

She left no room for argument in her statement, walking from the room in the direction her wing.

 

Clarke groaned and tilted her head down, resting her forehead against the kitchen counter. She had been planning to go to the bar that night, but at least it wasn’t a Tuesday.

 

She’d performed at Open Mic Night twice more since that night she sang to Bellamy. Each time she played, it got easier and easier.

 

Last week, she actually brought her guitar with her and performed acoustic. It had been a huge hit and she received a lot of compliments from the regulars.

 

Bellamy had come around the bar, all smiles, and slipped his hand into her back pocket, bringing her in close, and telling her how beautiful she sounded.

 

They’d only grown closer over the past few weeks and she was slowly combusting from the inside out.

 

In spite of his obvious attention to her body and the way he held her close and eviscerated her with his heated stare, he hadn’t made a move again since they’d been interrupted that day at the beach.

 

She _would_ think his “taking it slow” was very gentlemanly if she wasn’t itching to throw him on the ground and grind against his dick until he gave in and fucked her in the back of his Jeep.

 

It was a problem.

 

And now?

 

Now she wouldn’t get to see him that evening. And after seeing her mother’s attitude that morning, she was worried about when she was going to get to see him next, period.

 

Why the _fuck_ hadn’t she just asked for his number at this point?

 

She tapped her fingers nervously on the kitchen counter and considered her options. She knew for a _fact_ that she didn’t have anything else to do until 7:00 that evening.

 

Looking out the kitchen window, she could just make out the sand on the beach outside and the brightness of the beautiful summer sunshine gave her a sudden idea.

 

Jumping up from her chair, she quickly washed her bowl, leaving it in the sink and rushed to her bedroom to change clothes.

  


\----

  


When she had stopped by the bar, Miller had only been half surprised to see her again, as she hadn’t really shown up during the day ever since she found out that Bellamy only worked there at night.

 

After she told him why she was there, he’d simply smirked and wrote down an address on a piece of paper and slid it to her across the bar.

 

She grinned and leaned over, kissing him on the cheek in thanks and turning to leave out the front door.

 

Pulling up at the address he gave her, she squinted her eyes against the reds and yellows glaring bright in the harsh sunlight. She parked her car in the lot there and leaned over, peering out the front windshield, looking around at all of the people who were milling about, tools hanging from their waists and sweat dripping down their faces.

 

It didn’t take her long to spot him.

 

He was hammering against a tall piece of wood, pulling nails out of a pouch hanging off the back of his belt.

 

Honestly, she hadn’t thought he could get any hotter, but she was sadly mistaken.

 

He was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans, the cotton fabric of his shirt sticking to his muscles that flexed and moved as he soundly buried each nail with one, swift pound of his hammer.

 

She stared at him for a solid thirty seconds before she realized that her mouth was hanging open, so she closed it swiftly, shaking her head, and opened the door to her car.

 

Walking up to the site itself was easy, as there weren’t any _real_ boundaries, and no one seemed to notice that she was even there. Everyone was engrossed in what they were doing and she was definitely going to use that to her advantage.

 

Standing behind him, she was struggling even _more_ to stop herself from salivating over the way he looked, working hard to make sure that the studs were all properly in place, hitting them with his hand when they were secured and checking their stability.

 

She cleared her throat, expecting him to turn around and acknowledge her, but he just kept working, and it occurred to her that he might not be able to hear her.

 

“Bellamy!” She said loudly, hoping the increased volume would help.

 

She watched him jump slightly and turn around quickly, his face scrunched in confusion until he realized she was there and then immediately, he grinned widely. Watching him smile, she felt her heart rate pick up, aided by the fact that the front of his shirt was just as soaked as the back and instinctually, she licked her lips.

 

Bellamy’s chuckle made her eyes snap back up to his and watch as he took steps toward her.

 

“And just what are you doing here, Princess? Lost?”

 

She smirked, crossing her arms across her chest.

 

“Sure. Lost. And somehow I ended up at the exact same work site where you just _happened_ to be working.” She grinned as he stepped close enough that she could touch him.

 

“Touche. I guess the better guess is that your here for a reason. So how can I help you?” He raised an eyebrow, his hands resting on his hips. “And speak quickly before the foreman realizes your here and kicks you out.”

 

“Yeah, about that.” She started, gesturing around the site with a sweep of her hand. “This seems fun and all but… you know what’s _more_ fun?” She teased.

 

He leaned in, his lips a small distance away from her own.

 

“What’s that?”

 

She leaned in even further, speaking directly in his ear so no one around them could hear.

 

“Ditching.”

 

Bellamy chuckled beside her face and leaned away from her, eyeing her with amusement.

 

“You want me to ditch work? Me? Do you know me at all?”

 

She pouted.

 

“Come on, Bellamy. I’m not going to get to go to the bar tonight and it’s such a beautiful day.” She looked up at him from under her eyelashes, biting down on her bottom lip. “Just tell them I came to tell you that your sister is sick and needs your help. Just once.”

 

She watched as Bellamy looked down her, obviously considering it.

 

“I wanna spend time with you.” She admitted, her voice somewhat small, and even though she thought she was extremely obvious about her feelings for Bellamy, he seemed to register surprise at her words.

 

His arm raised and he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

 

“And I wanna spend time with you.”

 

He reached down and grabbed her hand, pulling her away from the area he was working and nodded toward the car, motioning for her to go to the parking lot and moving in the opposite direction.

 

She waited at her mom’s Prius for a few minutes, leaning against the front door, and watching the line of trees just on the edge of the property sway with the slight breeze.

 

A hand around her waist startled her and she found herself falling into Bellamy’s chest that was shaking with laughter.

 

“Deep in thought?” His voice rumbled against her shoulder and she pushed off of his chest to turn and face him.

 

“Something like that.” She smiled. “Ready to go?”

 

He jerked his thumb over his shoulder and nodded.

 

“Yeah, I told my boss that I was needed for my sister, as instructed.” He smirked, obviously going to let her out of her discomfort at admitting she wanted to see him. “Where to, Princess?”

 

She bit down on her bottom lip and smiled, digging her teeth into its flesh.

 

“Meet me at the bar? We can take one car.”

 

He nodded and fished his keys out of his pocket.

 

“Alright then. See you there?” He asked, his eyes looking down at her sweetly, a smile tugging at his bottom lips.

 

She leaned up on her tiptoes, placing a kiss against the corner of his mouth, lingering and then pulling away slowly, balancing on his chest.

 

“See you in a minute.”

  


* * *

  
  


By the time they made it back to the bar and piled into Bellamy’s Jeep, Clarke was giddy with excitement.

 

She watched the sand roll by and luxuriated in the whipping wind while Bellamy played some of that bluegrass music he loved so much using the auxiliary cable he had plugged into his phone.

 

As the landscape passed by, she studied the houses on the beach, like she often did, analyzing each one. Sometimes there were families outside, playing in the sand or adults laughing and crashing into the waves.

 

She smiled and waved when she passed those, her stomach clenching, as she looked back down at the pavement passing underneath Bellamy’s tires to clear her head of any false dreams.

 

“I can’t believe your parents literally own a _house_ out here and you’ve never been to the Boardwalk.” Bellamy said loudly, his voice carrying over the loud sound of the wind.

 

She shrugged, leaning back into her seat, her gaze falling to side of his face. Her hand was resting on top of his where his palm was flat against her thigh.

 

Her blood was boiling at the innocent touch. His fingers were so close to her core, it was almost like her body picked up on his close proximity and reacted.

 

She had been trying to focus on something different in an effort to stave off the arousal, but was finding it to be more difficult than anticipated.

 

“As you know, my mother usually keeps me on a pretty tight leash while we are down here.”

 

He looked over at her then, eyes intense.

 

“Seems to me you’ve been able to get away from her more than usual this summer.”

 

She smiled a warm smile, leaning further into the seat, burying the back of her head into the leather.

 

“Well, I’ve had more incentive to get away from her this summer.”

 

She could see the second he reacted, his eyes narrowing and his large hand gripping her thigh just a little tighter. She closed her eyes, her head leaning backward as she relished in the small movement.

 

“Careful, Princess, we have a day of fun and merriment ahead, don’t we? We should keep this PG.”

 

She bit down on her lip, returning her eyes to his profile.

 

“I can think of other things we could do. Slightly more than PG.” Her fingers trailed lightly over the skin on the back of his hand that still hadn’t loosened its grip.

 

He glanced in her direction briefly.

 

“Later.” Was all he said and she couldn’t help but pout.

 

They drove a little while longer and eventually, she could see it in the distance. Colorful storefronts that lined the boardwalk along the sandy beach. It was pretty crowded, she could see, much more crowded than any other place she had visited in the Hamptons.

 

“The Hampton Beach Boardwalk is actually pretty popular as far as boardwalks go. Makes it into a lot of magazines and shit.” Bellamy explained as he watched her eyes take in the sight.

 

“Because it’s in the Hamptons?” She guessed.

 

He shook his head.

 

“Nah because of the food.”

 

She moaned at the thought of some good food. The food she had to eat at her mother’s events usually consisted of extremely expensive fish and grilled chicken. She was dying for some greasy boardwalk food.

 

They made it to a parking spot near the end of the line and paid the fee for parking. Clarke was already waiting for Bellamy on the boardwalk when he finished and she was practically vibrating with excitement and overstimulation looking around at all the things to do, the bright lights and colorful buildings.

 

“Where do we even start?” She said excitedly, watching the people who passed by with interest.

 

Suddenly, she felt Bellamy’s palm against her own, warm and comforting as he pulled her into his side with a chuckle.

 

“Why don’t we just walk, Princess? Stop when we see something we like.”

 

She blushed, looking down at their joined hands, and nodded.

 

It was silly, she knew, to get so excited at just holding his hand, especially when said hand had already been dangerously close to her arousal, but nonetheless, she giggled as he pulled her ahead. They started talking about the different stores and pointing out things they saw as they walked.

 

The people at the boardwalk were a type she never really came across in their little corner of the Hamptons. There were a lot of people whom you could tell were tourists, wearing t-shirts with “Hamptons” emblazoned across the chest.

 

The beach was filled with bodies, everyone fighting with one another for a space in the sand. She couldn’t help but poke fun at those people.

 

“If they would just drive further down the beach, it wouldn’t be this crowded.” She mused to Bellamy, who leaned in so he could hear what she was saying.

 

“That’s true, but they want to be close to the boardwalk for all the food and activities. It’s just the price you pay, I guess.”

 

They kept walking, eventually stopping at some place with outdoor seating under blue umbrellas to eat lunch.

 

As she munched on the very tasty fries that Bellamy had insisted on buying, she watched Bellamy lean back in the chair and watch the people that littered the boardwalk.

 

He had changed into some shorts and a new T-shirt when they got back to the bar, and a part of her missed the way those jeans had clung to his ass.

 

“You’re staring, Princess.”

 

Her eyes shifted to see that he was now staring at _her_ and instead of being embarrassed like she normally would, she decided to throw caution to the wind and respond in true Bellamy Blake fashion.

 

“Maybe. But you seem to stare at me a lot, so I thought I’d return the favor.”

 

He smirked, his eyes roaming quickly once up and down her body, lingering on the cleavage that was showing in the dip of her scoop neck white t-shirt.

 

“And what do you think?” He asked casually.

 

_Seriously? I think you’re the single most attractive man I’ve ever met in my life and I attended high school with some of the most genetically-blessed teenagers in the world._

 

“You’re okay.” She shrugged one shoulder and shoved a fry in her mouth to keep herself from laughing at her own bald-faced lie.

 

He smiled then, leaning forward on the table, his elbows resting on the top and his hands clasped together.

 

“Well, that’s better than nothing, I suppose. You however? You’re beautiful. The most amazingly alluring woman I’ve ever come across. And not just because your hair is soft and makes you look like sunshine incarnate or because you have a rack that would bring Zeus to his knees.”

 

She blushed then, coughing a little, hopelessly unprepared for the onslaught of compliments and the emotions they made her feel.

 

“But because you’re special. You grew up in a world of grandeur and privilege and still managed to end up perfectly balanced and down to Earth. You put me in my place the second we met and I’ve spent every moment with you trying to make it up to you because I was a judgemental asshole who grouped you in with the rest, even when it was painfully obvious to me from the moment I laid eyes on you, that you were different.”

 

She thought about crying, could feel the tear ducts working at the corners of her eyes as she listened to his earnest explanation.

 

But instead she smiled softly, her hand reaching over to grab his, her foot trailing up and down his calf underneath the table.

 

“You don’t have anything to make up to me, Bell. I know that’s not who you are.”

 

He looked down at the table and she watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

 

“No, it is. Or it was.” His gaze returned to hers. “You make me better. You’ve shown me that’s not who I want to be.”

 

They held hands throughout the rest of lunch, Bellamy scooting closer so they could rest their joined hands on his thigh. They took turns making up life stories for the variety of people they saw and ended up laughing more than talking.

 

When they did finally leave the restaurant, Clarke squealed at the sight of flashing lights in the distance, dragging Bellamy through the throng of people toward a building with the giant red letters spelling “ARCADE” on the outside.

 

They spent an hour going from machine to machine, playing different old Atari games and Clarke crushing him at most. Unfortunately, he seemed to be especially adept at pinball but Clarke ruled it an unfair match because he had more upper body strength than her.

 

He told her she was a sore loser.

 

When they left the arcade they found a stand that rented bicycles and she insisted they had to go for a ride and also that she should pay since he paid for lunch.

 

Bellamy agreed, reluctantly.

 

“You know I haven’t ridden a bicycle in _years_ and this likely won’t go well, right?”

 

She laughed as she hopped up on top of the bright red bicycle and situated herself on the only slightly uncomfortable bicycle seat.

 

“Me either! Isn’t that the fun of it though? Wobbling around as we try and figure out how to use these things?”

 

“Isn’t the phrase literally ‘It’s like riding a bike?’” He surmised, sweeping his own leg over the bicycle and sitting down easily.

 

“Let’s hope so!” She chirped happily, placing her feet on the pedals and pushing them into motion.

 

It took a few tries before they were actually able to get going. Add that to the fact that they were trying to weave in and out of the people walking around the boardwalk and they spent a lot of time laughing.

 

They had the bikes for two hours so they took them down the boardwalk until they reached the long pier that stretched out far into the ocean and parked them at the end, leaning against the railing and looking out at the ocean.

 

“Do you ever think about performing somewhere else? Like actually giving the whole singing thing a legitimate try?”

 

She sighed, leaning into her elbows, her eyes watching her toes as her foot propped up on the plank at the bottom of the rail.

 

“I think about it all the time. But that doesn’t mean I will ever get to. My mom would literally kill me before she allowed me to venture outside the safety zone of ‘My Plan.’” She used finger quotes and a slightly groused tone.

 

Bellamy didn’t respond for a minute, likely considering what to say.

 

“You’d be okay, you know.”

 

She stopped tapping on the wood of the plank and looked up to find him staring down at her, his face serious.

 

“Without them, I mean. You would be okay. It would take a while to get adjusted but, Clarke… If anyone could do it, leave home and make it? It would be you.”

 

Her heart fluttered in her chest as she registered his support.

 

His arm moved slowly, reaching out to wrap around her waist and pull her in close so that her chest was pressed up against his, rising up and down with her breathing.

 

When he cupped her cheek, she leaned into his touch, her eyes cloudy with some unidentifiable need to be near him.

 

She could see him leaning in, her lips parting without thought, and she watched his eyes search hers briefly before he finally pressed his lips against hers.

 

It was completely unlike what she thought their first kiss would be, their need for one another lending itself to a passionate, fiery exchange, but in that moment, it was perfect.

 

His lips were so soft against hers, still for a moment before he pulled back, searching her face once more.

 

This time, she pushed herself up to kiss him, bringing him down by the back of his head. Their mouths opened and tongues tangled in a dance of their own.

 

And even though she was beyond aroused, every time she tried to intensify the exchange, Bellamy held back, keeping the kiss lazy and beautiful.

 

By the time they parted, she was breathless with want, her hands gripping the strands of his hair with the same desire that wanted to devour her whole.

 

Instead, he breathed out, his fingers tracing down her cheek and pushing back into the hair that had fallen loose from her ponytail.

 

“It’s time we get you home, Princess.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


After their day together at the Boardwalk, she hadn’t had to ask Bellamy for his number - He asked her for hers.

 

So when he left her house, she told him to text her to make sure he got home safely that night.

 

And they hadn’t really stopped texting since then.

 

It had been several days since she’d seen him now, her mother monopolizing all of her time, and she had never been more grateful to have some way to still communicate with him.

 

She hadn’t really pushed her mother anymore since her attempt at a guilt trip the week before. Trying to lay low, she was planning to cash in her chips on Tuesday for Open Mic Night again.

 

Therefore, when Bellamy texted her on Sunday, she had been completely unprepared.

 

 **Bellamy Blake** _Good Morning, Princess. Any chance you can get away for a lunch date?_

 

She grinned uncontrollably at the word “date” even though they had technically already been on a date before.

 

Did he include the Boardwalk as a date?

 

She did, but what if he didn’t?

 

I mean, it had ended with a kiss hadn’t it?

 

She chewed on the side of her cheek thoughtfully and decided to text Wells.

 

 **Clarke Griffin** _Good Morning, best friend in the entire WORLD!_

 

Okay, so maybe that was a little transparent, but she was beyond putting on a face to Wells. He knew her well enough to know better usually, anyways.

 

 **Wells** **Jaha** _What do you want?_

 

She snorted at the returned text message and thought back to the past week with Wells at her mother’s stupid events. He had been just as miserable as she had, having seen the other side of the party world where their new friends were just chill humans who enjoyed spending time with one another.

 

No pretending to like people you couldn’t stand and eating terrible food all in the name of wealth and exuberance.

 

 **Clarke Griffin** _I need a favor._

 

She pushed back her comforter and slid her feet into the fluffy bedroom slippers at the side of her bed and moved toward her closet, idly wondering what was appropriate for a lunch date when she didn’t know where it would be.

 

 **Wells Jaha** _I gathered. What is it?_

 

She picked up a cute summer dress that she hadn’t worn around Bellamy yet that did amazing things for her breasts. He did seem to be particularly fond of them, apparently.

 

 **Clarke Griffin** _Bellamy wants to take me on a lunch date. Any chance you can take me to the bar, hang out with Miller until I’m done, and then bring me back so mom thinks we’re having lunch together?_

 

She tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for his answer.

 

 **Wells Jaha** _I guess. If it’ll cheer you up somewhat. You’ve been inconsolable._

 

She grinned and she could literally hear his resigned sigh in her head.

 

 **Clarke Griffin** _You’re the best! *Kisses*_

 

And with her alibi in place, she texted Bellamy back.

 

 **Clarke Griffin** _Good morning to you too! It seems I can make it work… Where are we going?_

 

She sat her phone down on the table in the closet and started fluffing out the sun dress that had been flattened somewhat on the hanger.

 

When she heard her phone ding, she checked it to a surprise.

 

 **Bellamy Blake** _The beach. Dress appropriately ;)_

 

She huffed. Of course, Bellamy could see right through her curiosity.

 

No matter.

 

If he wanted to see her in a swimsuit, she could arrange that.

  
  


\----

  
  


Miller wasn’t even remotely surprised to see her accompanied by Wells when they made it to the bar.

 

“Ahhh, the fall guy. You’re a good friend, you know.” He said to Wells as he sat down at the bar.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. She’s been terrible to be around, I had to do something.”

 

Miller snorted as he started to make Wells a drink.

 

“I feel you, man. I totally understand.”

 

“Not talking about me, I hope?”

 

She felt her stomach flip at just the sound of his voice and the memories it brought back of their kiss on the boardwalk.

 

He walked out of the back room, glaring playfully at Miller who was holding up his hands in mock innocence.

 

When he turned to give her his attention, she smiled brightly, eager to see him once again.

 

What took her by surprise was the way he walked up to her without hesitation, wrapping his arms around her, his hands gripping her lower back, and pulling her in for a lingering kiss.

 

She lost herself in it for a moment, opening up to his innocent and lazy kisses, and then she heard the complaints.

 

“Take it outside already, would ya?” Miller groaned.

 

Bellamy pulled away, a smile on his face, his eyes never leaving hers.

 

“You ready for lunch?”

 

She exhaled shakily.

 

“You have no idea.”

 

She heard Wells cough and she blushed, immediately backing up a step.

 

Except Bellamy didn’t seem to want her that far away, so he pulled her back into him without apology to her friend.

 

“We’ll be back in a little bit.” He called to them, smiling down at her.

 

“Sure, whatever.” Was Miller’s response.

 

Bellamy chuckled and took hold of her hand, pulling her out of the bar and into the parking lot.

 

When he gestured for her to get into the passenger side of his Jeep, her brow knit in confusion.

 

“Where are we going?” She asked curiously.

 

“The beach.” Was his response and she reached over, pushing against his shoulder playfully.

 

“I know that, ass. There’s a beach literally ten feet away.” She pointed to the beach behind the bar.

 

“I know that, Princess, but I want to take you to a very _specific_ beach.” He paused, turning in his seat to look at her. “Is that okay?” He asked seriously.

 

“As long as you promise to rest your hand on my leg on the way there.” She countered, her expression playful.

 

His smirk returned and she felt herself sigh at the sight.

 

He was just so beautiful, honestly. It really wasn’t even _fair._

 

He kept his promise and rested his palm on her thigh while he drove, except this time, he rested it much higher up on her leg.

 

She couldn’t help herself as she subtly shifted her legs a little wider, giving him more space to spread his fingers out on the warm flesh of her inner thighs.

 

He apparently could take a hint as slowly over the course of the ride, his hand would drift higher and higher, his fingers releasing and gripping her flesh, seeking her heat.

 

By the time she could feel his pinky against the side of her bathing suit, she knew that if he moved even another fraction of an inch, he’d be able to feel her arousal against the slick material.

 

“We’re here.” His voice was deeper than usual and when she peered over in his direction, his eyes were dark and drinking her in from the driver’s seat.

 

However, when they pulled into the little parking lot, he removed his hand and helped her down out of the side of the vehicle.

 

“What’s special about this part of the beach?” She asked as they unpacked the cooler he’d brought with them that held their lunch.

 

Honestly, she was doing a great job at hiding her saltiness at the interruption.

 

She grabbed the large beach blanket and he snapped the back gate closed, leading her out onto the sand.

 

“You’ll see.” He promised, pulling her in close by her waist and dropping a quick kiss on the side of her temple.

 

He had packed them a variety of sandwich toppings and bread from an Amish store she had no idea existed, but she made a mental note to find it immediately as it was undoubtedly the most delicious, fresh sandwich she’d ever had.

 

For dessert, he’d made each of them little containers filled with fresh fruit.

 

“Mmmmm mango.” She moaned as she popped a piece into her mouth. “I love mango.”

 

“I know.” Was his response, so she turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

 

“You literally pick apart fruit trays at those stupid parties looking for the bits of mango.” At the look on her face, she watched as his cheeks reddened and he cleared his throat. “Hard not to notice.”

 

_No, that’s just you, Bellamy._

 

“Well, I’m glad you’re on par with Monk when it comes to astute observations because now I get to enjoy this little slice of paradise with my favorite fruit.” She chirped, tossing another bite into her mouth.

 

When they finished lunch, he packed up all their trash into the cooler and hauled it back to the Jeep before re-joining her on the beach, reaching out his hand and pulling her to her feet on the blanket.

 

“Come on. There’s something I want to show you.”

 

They left the blanket in its place and started to walk hand in hand down the sand, the water rushing in at their feet.

 

It reminded her a lot of that time he had walked her home at the beginning of the summer after she punched Finn in the face.

 

She hadn’t really had any problems with Finn since then and when he showed up at the next event with a bruised nose, he lied and told people he fell down the steps.

 

She and Bellamy had a good laugh over that, but he still checked in with her to make sure she wasn’t being approached by him or anyone else at the parties that made her uncomfortable.

 

They walked in silence, Clarke swinging their hands slightly between the two of them. Looking around, she could see they were approaching a small community of beach houses like the ones she watched pass by on the road. Many were not home, but there were a few families that were noticeable, children playing in the sand, parents watching from their place at the house.

 

They waved as they passed by and Bellamy seemed to know all of them, the adults and children alike calling out to him by name.

 

She hadn’t had very much time to ponder that when she noticed they were approaching a house that seemed to be a little less loved than the others.

 

It sat up off the beach somewhat on a formation of large rocks, small stilts underneath that looked like they had seen a better time. The siding was so faded, you couldn’t really tell what color it was but maybe a shade of blue?

 

Suddenly, it clicked in her head that she’d seen this house before.

 

The beautiful porch that wrapped around the entirety of the cottage made her yearn to go to it - She couldn’t forget that porch if she tried.

 

She let go of Bellamy’s hand and walked toward it, making her way up the little path in between the rocks that led to the beach until she was standing at the front door, the porch opening on either side of it.

 

“I’ve seen this house.” She murmured, resting her hand on the post. “I drive by it on the way to the bar. I _love_ this porch.” She turned to find him standing behind her, hands in his pockets. “Does no one live here?”

 

It was obvious the house wasn’t lived in, really, but she felt the need to ask.

 

“They did at one time.” He answered, stepping up onto the porch and fiddling with the little mailbox that was drilled into the house beside the front door.

 

“Bell!” She hissed. “Get down! We’re trespassing.”

 

Bellamy laughed, turning around to face her again.

 

“Not really, Princess.” He gestured to the house. “This is what I was going to show you.”

 

She looked at the little cottage in confusion.

 

“A house? Are you buying it?”

 

He shook his head.

 

“No. It’s mine already.”

 

She gasped unintentionally, walking up the steps and allowing herself to peruse it even more.

 

“It was my mother’s.” He continued.

 

She stopped where she stood and turned to face him straight on, giving him her complete attention.

 

“This is where I grew up.” He sighed. “It’s been in my family for a really long time. It’s the only way we would’ve ever been able to live on ocean front property in the Hamptons. We didn’t really have the money for upkeep though, so we had to move out when I was 13.” He placed his hand on the post again, looking out at the ocean. “When my mom died, she left it to me and it has been sitting here ever since, waiting for me to sell it.”

 

Her heart hurt at the thought of Bellamy selling his childhood home. Especially one that was so beautiful and obviously held so many memories.

 

“You’re going to sell it?” She asked before she could reign in her emotions.

 

Bellamy shrugged, crossing his arms across his chest.

 

“I should, shouldn’t I? It would bring in a lot of money for just the land alone. Whoever bought it could tear down the house and build something beautiful.”

 

She moved toward him then, her slow steps eventually bringing her to a stop in front of him, her hand against his face.

 

“ _This_ house is beautiful, Bellamy. It just needs some love. And you have that in spades.”

 

His eyes bore into hers, daring her to look away, but she merely held his gaze, deeply breathing in his scent.

 

“You think so?”

 

She rose onto her toes and kissed him deeply, drawing him into her and holding him close.

 

When she pulled away, they were both breathing heavily.

 

“I know so, Bellamy.”

 

She turned slightly toward the front door they were standing beside, her hand rising to touch the solid surface.

 

“You could fix it up.” She offered, eyeing him from the corner of her eye. “Like that movie - What’s it called? The one where the guy buys the old house and fixes it up for the girl he’s in love with?”

 

Bellamy chuckled.

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Princess.” His hand gripped her sides playfully.

 

She rolled her eyes.

 

“Come on, everyone’s seen it. She tells him what he should do to it and then she disappears for years but when she finally comes back, he’s finished. He fixes the house exactly the way she wanted it, even after she left him.”

 

He looked at her seriously before he took her hand and drug her down to the sand in front of the house, turning her so she was facing it.

 

“What would you do to it?” He asked and it took her a moment to realize he was being completely serious.

 

“What? Me? This is your house, Bellamy! You’re the handy one. I know nothing about construction.”

 

He took her hand and pulled her in front of him, her back to his front, and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

 

“Look at it. What do you see?”

 

She sighed, leaning into him and considered for a moment.

 

The echoes of children’s laughter assaulted her senses as she imagined all that the house could be.

 

“Yellow.” She said. “Yellow with a white front porch, wooden floor. Lots of light in the house, bright colors. Maybe some rocking chairs there.” She points to the beach-facing side of the porch. “That way you could watch your kids as they play outside.”

 

He spun her in his arms, and leaned in to kiss her once more.

 

“Sounds magical.” He murmured against her lips.

 

“Yeah.” She breathed. “You should do it, Bell. Not necessarily my vision of it, but you should fix it up. Don’t sell it.” She pleaded with him.

 

He seemed to consider her for moment before his hand hooked into hers once more, squeezing gently.

 

“Better get you back, Princess. Wouldn’t want you or Boy Charming to get in trouble.”

 

She sighed and leaned her head against his chest.

 

“If we must.”

 

She could feel his chest rise and fall with his unhindered laughter.

 

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


It was another four days without Bellamy before she had an opportunity to get away again. Luckily, it fell on a Tuesday as she was itching to get on stage.

 

Her mother had tried to put up a fight about her “going to see Raven,” but Marcus stepped in and reminded her that there wasn’t anything on their schedule and she hadn’t seen Raven in a while.

 

She could practically feel her mother’s glare as she skipped out of the room.

 

But when she made it to The Bunker, Bellamy was out front waiting for her instead of inside working the bar.

 

Wells nodded at him and moved past the two of them to the inside of the bar.

 

“What are you doing?” She asked, guitar in hand.

 

He reached down and took the handle from her, holding it by his side, his other hand reaching up to wrap around her shoulders as he led them to her Jeep.

 

“We have to leave now or we won’t be back at a reasonable hour.” Was all he said, his gravelly voice exciting her immediately.

 

“Leave? Where are we going?” She was curious but not anxious, she knew if Bellamy was taking her somewhere, it was somewhere she wanted to be.

 

“It’s a surprise.” He laughed at her pout but simply placed her guitar in the Jeep and got on the highway.

 

It took an hour for her to realize that he was taking her into the city.

 

“Planning to take me home?” She asked, amused.

 

He grinned but didn’t answer.

 

She loved riding with him like this, the silence comfortable and not unwelcome. Being with Bellamy was beautiful in that they didn’t have to talk in order to enjoy one another’s company. They would speak on occasion, comment on things they passed, but she never felt the need to fill the space with empty words.

 

When she started to notice the lights becoming more and more prevalent, she couldn’t resist questioning him again.

 

“Come on. Just a hint.”

 

He sighed, scratching the back of his neck.

 

“You’re going to need your guitar.”

 

Her stomach clenched in nervous anticipation.

 

“I’m performing?” She squeaked and he looked over at her, his gaze calm and reassuring.

 

“It’s going to be fine and you’ll be great. You’ve had lots of practice now.”

 

Deep down, she knew he was right, but it didn’t stop her from being nervous.

 

When they pulled into public parking, he once again grabbed her guitar case and her hand and led them to a club she had never even heard of.

 

Granted, she never really came to this part of town, her mother perfectly content to restrict her travels to the Upper East Side.

 

The lights out front told her that it was called The Pit, which seemed like an odd name for a club, but she wasn’t going to knock it.

 

“My cousin owns this place.” Bellamy explained, opening the door for her to enter. “I had him put you on the list tonight.”

 

“You have a cousin who lives in the city?” She asked, surprised, having never heard of this cousin before in all of their conversations about family.

 

“Yeah, by marriage, once removed. Name’s Murphy. We may or may not see the slimy bastard.” He snorted.

 

The club was _packed_ with people, all of whom were nursing drinks at tables and watching the poor soul on stage who seemed to be pretty nervous.

 

“You’re so much better than her.” Bellamy said snidely and she elbowed him in the side.

 

“Be nice, Bellamy.”

 

“That _was_ nice, Clarke.”

 

He led them to the side of the club where there were booths reserved for VIP, which of course they were, apparently.

 

“Perks of knowing the owner.” Bellamy said with a smirk.

 

They watched people perform, Clarke eagerly anticipating the end of each song when they would announce the next performer. When it wasn’t her name, her anticipation would fall and build again while the next person played.

 

Bellamy’s hand rested on her thigh, squeezing gently, rubbing out her tense muscles.

 

“You’re amazing, Princess. I’m so proud of you for even considering doing this. And especially grateful you haven’t thrown me under the wheels of my own Jeep as you high tail it back to the beach.”

 

She turned to him, smile in place.

 

“I could.” She admitted. “But then I wouldn’t have you here to do this.”

 

She moved her right leg, hooking it on top of his leg and facing him, sitting on his lap while his hand was caught between her legs, still gripping her thigh.

 

“If you’re trying to distract yourself, the distraction is more than okay with me.” He said huskily, pulling her in for a deep kiss.

 

She moaned, rubbing herself lightly against his thigh, her hands buried deep into his tresses.

 

His hand moved from her inner thigh, slowly trailing upwards toward her core, and she urged him on, continuing to rub against him with slow rolls of her hips.

 

“Please welcome our next performer, Clarke Griffin!”

 

The sound of her name, caused her to jump, jerking herself out of Bellamy’s lap.

 

His hands came up to rest on her hips, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against the skin exposed by her t-shirt.

 

“You’ve got this.” He nodded.

 

She nodded back, stepping out from between his legs and grabbing her guitar from where it rested beside him.

 

The walk to the stage was dark, people all around her, smiling in encouragement. She barely even remembered stepping up on the stage and taking her guitar from her case.

 

She had prepared to sing a song tonight that she wrote last year. Something light and airy.

 

However, being up on stage, in front of the biggest crowd she’d ever performed for, her heart told her to sing something else.

 

She gulped, looking down at her guitar where it hung in front of her, her fingers nervously playing with the stickers there as she always did when she was uneasy.

 

It was a lot like Bellamy’s bar, the darkness of the crowd and the lights of the stage making it impossible to see anything specific, but she knew where Bellamy was sitting.

 

She looked in his direction, knowing he was smiling a supportive smile, and she felt what she needed to sing.

 

He was the reason she was here, after all.

 

He had made her feel things in the past month that she hadn’t felt in her entire life.

 

She thought back to that night when he saved her from Finn at the party and then met her at the bar, walking toward her in the crowd after she’d sang and telling her how amazing she was.

 

It was like meeting him for the first time. The real him.

 

She started strumming before she’d even made up her mind to switch songs, her body propelling her into action her brain urged.

 

_There I was again tonight, forcing laughter faking smiles, same old tired lonely place._

_Walls of insincerity, shifting eyes in vacancy, vanished when I saw your face._

 

Her heart was hammering, and it was like she was back at her mother’s party, pretending to be happy she was there, but he saw right through it.

 

_The playful conversation starts, counter all your quick remarks like passing notes in secrecy._

_And it was enchanting to meet you._

 

She looked out to Bellamy again, hoping against all hopes that he knew who she was singing to.

 

_This night is sparkling, don’t you let it go._

_I’m wonderstruck, blushing all the way home._

_I’ll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you._

 

She kept singing, remembering staying up until 2 AM, wondering about his relationship with Gina. Back then, she hadn’t known if he was still in love with his ex, in spite of his sister’s insistence that he wasn’t.

 

And then the feeling of not knowing if she would ever see him again.

 

_This is me praying that this was the very first page, not where our story will end_

_My thoughts will echo your name until I see you again._

_These are the words I held back as I was leaving too soon…_

_I was enchanted to meet you._

 

The rest of the song came and went, Clarke baring her soul to the crowd in front of her, but really, to Bellamy.

 

When she strummed the last chord, her voice echoing across the silence of the audience, her gut froze with nervous anticipation, hoping that the audience’s reaction was a positive one.

 

The roar of applause was a welcome relief as she exhaled shakily into the microphone. It felt a lot like it had that first time she sang, not knowing what the crowd would think, but still, the validation that they had enjoyed it felt good.

 

As she stepped down from the stage, Bellamy was there waiting on her.

 

He leaned over and grabbed the guitar from her as usual, but instead of leading her away, he sat it down at their feet and pulled her forward until she was crashing into his chest and kissed her, his hands moving up her back until he was gripping her head and melding her even closer to him.

 

She could’ve stayed that way all night, wrapped in his arms and being consumed by Bellamy but they were interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

 

“Ahem. Sorry to interrupt you love birds, but I just need to give you this.”

 

They stepped away from one another to see a big, bulky man with a tattoo on his face and hair pulled back into a ponytail. He was an interesting person to see, even in this dark club in the middle of the city.

 

Bellamy stepped forward in front of her, obviously already taking the defensive.

 

“Cute, boyfriend.” The man snarked, apparently not intimidated. “Here you go.” He gave a little card to Clarke over Bellamy’s shoulder.

 

**Roan Azgeda, Senior Producer and Talent Agent**

**Ice Nation Records**

  


At the bottom of the card was his number and email address and Clarke gasped out loud.

 

Was this legit?

 

“Yeah, it’s for real, sweetheart. You can Google us and everything. We represent a lot of very famous people. I think we could do great things for you. Give me a call when you’re ready.”

 

He eyed Bellamy once more and then he was gone, disappearing into the crowd.

 

“Bellamy.” She said, her voice breathy with disbelief. “He was a talent scout.”

 

“What?” Bellamy said, turning around looking at the card she held up for him to read.

 

When he looked up at her, he was grinning widely. He leaned over, picking her up off the floor and spun her around in a circle.

 

She giggled at the display, the happiness overtaking her completely.

 

“Bell- Bellamy, put me down, you oaf!” She hit him on the shoulder and he returned her to her feet.

 

He pushed the hair back out of her eyes and leaned in kissing away tears that she hadn’t even realized had fallen down her cheeks.

 

“I’m so happy for you, Princess.”

 

And she was too.

 

Happy.

 

Wasn’t she?

 

Her mother’s face flashed in front of her eyes and she was suddenly a little terrified.

  


 

* * *

  
  


Later that evening, they made it back to her house and Bellamy had driven her there.

 

She texted Wells to let him know he could head home because she was going to get back so late, she would get home faster if Bellamy took her.

 

Besides, her parents would be asleep.

 

When he put the car in park, she leaned over, pulling him in for a kiss before resting her forehead against his.

 

“Thank you.” She whispered in the stillness of the silent vehicle.

 

“I would do anything for you, Princess.” He said, his voice low and sincere.

 

Her eyes searched his for any sign of hesitation and found none.

 

“I’ll see you soon?” She asked, unsure of when she would get another opportunity to see him.

 

He nodded and she started to pull away to exit the vehicle, but his hand stopped her, pressing against her shoulder and keeping her in place.

 

“Hold on. I have something for you.” He said, reaching into the glovebox.

 

“Something _else?_ ” She asked, her voice incredulous. He had already done so much for her that night.

 

He coughed, retrieving what he was looking for and rubbing nervous at his hairline.

 

“I mean, it’s not much, just something small.”

 

She looked down at what he was holding and took it into her hands.

 

She could barely see it under the light of the security lamp outside her parent’s house, but it was a picture. It was her singing on stage, sitting at her piano. But it was the frame that made her pause. It was hand carved, intricate shapes flourishing along the sides of the frame, a dark, rich wood outlining her picture.

 

“You made this.” She said, sure without even asking.

 

He nodded and she could feel the tears starting to come again.

 

How was he even _real?_

 

How was she ever going to let go at the end of this?

 

When summer came to an end and she had to leave, what was she going to _do?_

 

She crawled across the console, leaving the picture in her seat, and placed herself in his lap.

 

Immediately, they kissed like they had done it a thousand times, and maybe they had at this point.

 

She felt like she had known him her whole life.

 

His hands came up under her skirt, gripping her thighs tightly and pulling her in more closely, pressing her core up against his upper leg.

 

She moaned, her head falling on his shoulder as she rolled her hips into him, much like she had that night at the club.

 

Except, unlike last time, Bellamy’s hand creeped away from her outer thighs, moving inwards, his fingers grazing the edge of her panties, silently asking for permission.

 

“Please.” She begged, her voice weak.

 

His fingers immediately dipped underneath the fabric, finding her dripping already.

 

“ _Jesus._ ” He groaned, his lips finding the side of her neck she had bared and leaving wet kisses.

 

She whimpered when his fingers traced back and forth lightly from her clit to her entrance, rubbing small circles on every pass. She was practically shaking by the time he pressed a single finger inside of her, stretching her walls to accommodate him.

 

“Oh- Yes, Bellamy.” She moaned, moving her hips and urging him to move inside of her.

 

He did, sliding his finger out slowly and then pushing back inside, a little rougher this time, drawing another moan from her face that was still buried in his shoulder.

 

His lips bit and lathed at her neck, undoubtedly leaving marks she would have to hide the next day, but she found the she didn’t care at all.

 

When he pressed a second finger inside of her and picked up his pace she felt like could cry with how good it felt, meeting his fingers with her hips, picking up the pace herself and racing to her completion.

 

Had she been in her right mind, she might’ve even been embarrassed by the sounds she was making, the whimpers falling from her lips, the slick sound of her pussy as he impaled her with his fingers, but all she could think of was how much she wished it was his cock instead.

 

It didn’t take long and she found herself flying over the cliff of her orgasm, the feeling of it drawing her down into the abyss, her body shaking with the feeling, until finally, she collapsed against him, still moving somewhat.

 

He allowed her to recover, his fingers stilling and then slowly moving out until they were just inside of her and then lightly pushing in and out, letting her ride the shockwaves just a little longer.

 

When she stilled her hips, he pulled his fingers out of her altogether, moving them up and down her swollen lips, massaging them with a gentleness that shouldn’t surprise her, considering who he was.

 

Finally, when his fingers left her panties, putting them back into place, she lifted her face to meet his gaze.

 

He was wrecked, his lips swollen, his hair a mess where her fingers had pulled at it relentlessly.

 

But when she moved her hand to his zipper, he pulled her away, his fingers wrapped around her wrist so she could feel her own arousal against her skin.

 

“No, not tonight, Princess.” He whispered his head nodding toward the house. “You should go inside.”

 

“They’re not even awake.” She ached, wanting to make him feel the way he made her feel.

 

He leaned over pressing a kiss against her forehead.

 

“There will be other moments.” He promised, his voice just as wrecked as his appearance.

 

So even though she could feel his hard dick through his jeans, she nodded and slid off his lap, grabbing her picture and holding it against her chest.

 

“Text me when you get home?” She asked, worried and wanting to make sure he made it okay.

 

He grinned.

 

“Always, Princess.”

 

She reluctantly climbed out of the vehicle and walked toward the front door, aware that Bellamy was watching her all the way until she entered the house.

 

He wanted to make sure nothing happened to her between the car and her home.

 

She walked to the panel beside the door and set the alarm before moving to the staircase, well spent and ready to burrow under her covers in contentment.

  
  


* * *

  
  


She watched the black Jeep as it turned the curve of the rounded driveway, only turning on its lights when it made it to the main road.

 

Her hands clenched in anger as she registered what this meant.

 

What she had known all along.

 

She let the curtain fall into place so that the view of the front driveway was hindered once again.

 

“Abby, sweetheart, what are you doing? Come to bed.”

 

She swallowed at the sound of Marcus’ voice, her mind suddenly filled with memories she had long since tried to forget.

 

“Coming.” She said, her voice light and off kilter.

 

The coldness returned and slowly seeped into her bones, taking over and forcing the memories from her mind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DAMN
> 
> I mean, right?
> 
> I'm sorry that the Bellamys of the world seem to be in hiding, by the way.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this update!
> 
> What did you think of that ending?
> 
> And Clarke was noticed by an agent!
> 
> We're approaching a turning point, people.
> 
> Prepare yourselves.
> 
> Leave comments and follow me on Twitter @MallidayWrites for writing updates!
> 
>  
> 
> Until next Sunday...
> 
>  
> 
> -Mally


	6. All Too Well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's heeeeeere! 
> 
> Sunday Funday, AKA My fav day of the week.
> 
> So, today's chapter has less pretty imagery and more not-so-pretty action.
> 
> I apologize in advance for those of you who are sensitive to sad scenes and cliffhangers because this chapter delivers on all fronts.
> 
> Anywho.
> 
> Today's song for your playlist is "Broad Shouldered Beasts" by Mumford and Sons.
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**All Too Well**

 

**"Broad Shouldered Beasts" by Mumford and Sons**

 

****

 

“UP!” A voice woke her from her sleep, a shove against the mattress causing her to shoot up from her warm blankets and rub her eyes sleepily.

 

“Wha-?” She mumbled, wearily staring at her mother who was standing at the foot of the bed, a careful, blank look on her face as she looked around the room.

 

“Get up. We’re going back to the city.”

 

At that, Clarke was wide awake, her eyes opening immediately, her mother’s words reverberating around her brain.

 

“We’re what?” She asked sharply, her tone clear and disbelieving, no sleep lingering in the words.

 

“We’re going home. Pack your bags, we’re leaving this afternoon.”

 

Her mother turned around and exited from her room without another word, not sparing Clarke another glance.

 

She wasn’t breathing, she realized, and she forcibly made herself take a deep inhale. She sat there for a solid two minutes trying to control it, before she was able to think clearly again.

 

What was going on? Why were they leaving?

 

She scrambled for her cellphone on her nightstand, her fingers swiping across the screen eagerly, looking for Wells’ name in her favorites.

 

“Good morning, isn’t it a little early for you?” He answered after two rings.

 

“Wells. What’s going on?” She asked immediately, breathless.

 

“What are you talking about?” His voice was full of confusion and Clarke realized that, if Wells actually didn’t know what she was talking about, this trip back to the city was not planned.

 

And that was dangerous.

 

“My mother. She just woke me up saying that we are going back to the city today. It’s only the first week of August. Why are we going back?” She paused. “You seriously didn’t know about this?”

 

The line was silent for a minute as Wells seemed to contemplate what she was saying.

 

“Clarke, the last I knew of the plan, you guys weren’t supposed to leave for another two weeks. If your mother is serious, and you’re leaving today, then something has made her change her mind.”

 

And that was what she was afraid of.

 

She thought about the night before and her core throbbed, a reminder of what she had been up to. Her stomach clenched in horror at the idea that her mother might have caught on to her relationship with Bellamy.

 

“Wells.” She swallowed. “I don’t want to go home. Can’t I stay with you?”

 

She could hear Wells sigh through the phone.

 

“You’re at a crossroads, Clarke. It’s your decision. I don’t think your mom is gonna be up for it but you know you’re always welcome to stay with us.”

 

She nodded, even though Wells couldn’t see her and ended the conversation. Staring at the door, it was like she waiting for her mother to come back through, a grin on her face, and tell her that it was a joke. That they weren’t actually going home.

 

But then again her mother didn’t joke.

 

She threw back her covers and slid her feet into her slippers, tiptoeing to the door and making her way through the house toward her mother.

 

Noise was drifting from the kitchen, so she followed it and found Marcus making a bowl of cereal at the counter.

 

She cleared her throat and his head snapped up, his eyes finding hers.

 

“Good morning, Clarke. Sleep well?” He asked conversationally, as if her mother wasn’t up and about, wrecking her summer plans without explanation.

 

It was so unspeakably  _ not _ like Abby. Surely he didn’t expect her to just… Go along with it without asking any sort of questions.

 

“So.. we’re going home?”

 

Marcus nodded, looking down at his bowl, not meeting her questioning gaze.

 

“Yes, your mother has some things she needs to get in order before the end of the summer back in the city.”

 

That was it. Nothing else. 

 

And no room for discussion.

 

“Is..” She paused. “Is it okay if I stay with Wells? For the last two weeks?”

 

Marcus’ hands paused where they were about to lift a bite of cereal to his lips and he finally looked at her from under a heavy gaze.

 

“I doubt your mother will go for that, sweetheart.” He said, his voice almost sad.

 

“But it’s just two weeks!” She hurriedly explained. “I-It’s my last summer before college. I just want to enjoy it with my friend.”

 

Marcus was still staring at her, and she was starting to feel the urge to cry. _ It isn’t fair _ , she wanted to scream.

 

“I’m sorry, Clarke. But we’re headed home today. You’d better say your goodbyes.”

 

She could see the regret in his eyes and she didn’t want to stick around to see it anymore.

 

Rushing from the room, she found the first sundress in reach in her closet and slid on her sandals. Almost running through the halls, she made her way to the driveway, grabbing the keys to her mother’s car on the way out the front door.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Bellamy was working, she knew. So she texted Miller and figured out which work site he was at that day. 

 

When she got the construction site, there weren’t people milling about, and she realized that they were on lunch break. Bellamy and a group of guys were laughing and throwing food at one another off to the side at a picnic table that had been set up for the workers.

 

Thinking he might have his phone on him for the break, she quickly sent him a text.

 

She watched as he felt around his pocket for the cell phone that had vibrated against his hip and brought it to his face.

 

He looked up, his eyes finding hers across the lot.

 

Immediately, he sat his food down on the table, said something to his coworkers, and made his way toward her.

 

It hurt to look at him - The shirt clinging to his chest, the tools hanging from his belt loops, and the smile on his face as he approached her.

 

When he was within reach, his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her in close, his big hands pressing against ler lower back.

 

“I can’t play hookie today, Princess.” He murmured, his lips at her ear, brushing against her earlobe as he spoke.

 

“I know.” She spoke, her voice wavering, and she realized that she was dangerously close to crying. Right here, in the middle of a parking lot, in front of Bellamy.

 

She didn’t want to leave. 

 

They were finally getting somewhere, she and Bellamy. She had spent all summer getting to know him and they were settling in to one another.

 

She rested her cheek against his chest, relishing in his closeness, hiding her face from his questioning gaze.

 

“What’s wrong?” His voice was suddenly deeper, rougher as he pulled away, his hands lingering on her waist, his eyes forcing hers to find his.

 

She swallowed and she watched his hand come up to her face, wiping away a tear she hadn’t realized had fallen.

 

“Princess, you’re scaring me. Please tell me what’s wrong.” His face was panicked, his eyes trailing back and forth between her face and her body, searching for anything that could be wrong.

 

“I’m leaving, Bellamy. We’re going home.” She whispered, her voice leaving her.

 

His entire body froze, his hands gripping her hips more tightly out of instinct. He started to step away but she stepped in closer, her hands coming up to wrap around his neck.

 

“Clarke-” His voice was shaking but she refused to let go, pressing up on her toes to push her lips against his, swallowing his protests.

 

He responded almost immediately, melting under her attention, his mouth awakening and suddenly putting all of himself into the kiss.

 

It was a goodbye kiss.

 

“Bellamy, wait-” She gasped, pulling away. “I-I don’t want this to be a goodbye.”

 

Bellamy’s eyes furrowed.

 

“What are you saying?” He asked, his eyes searching hers.

 

“I’m saying that I don’t want to say goodbye to you. I-” She looked down at the ground. “Don’t make me say goodbye to you.”

 

She felt his hand move to cup her cheek, moving her so that she was looking up at him once more, his eyes shining and sad.

 

“This won’t end well for us, Princess.” He murmured. “Then again, it was never going to, was it?” He chuckled mirthlessly.

 

She shook her head anxiously.

 

“Don’t say that, Bellamy. You don’t know that.”

 

Bellamy sighed, his thumb brushing back and forth across her cheek bone.

 

“Don’t I?”

 

Her eyes narrowed, her palm flattening against his chest.

 

“No, you don’t.” She was angry for a second but then she softened. “I’m not ready for this to be over.” She admitted, and she watched his throat bob as he swallowed. “I don’t think I ever  _ will _ be.”

 

His hands returned to her waist, his fingertips lightly pulling at the fabric of the sundress at her waist.

 

“Me either, Princess.” He offered in return.

 

For the first time, she could feel a small smile turning up the corners of her mouth.

 

“So let’s not it be, then.” She said, her voice firm.

 

His gaze was unsure but wavering and she knew she had him. She would prove it to him. That they were supposed to stay together.

 

“Okay.” He breathed. “Let’s not.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Bellamy had to get back to work, so Clarke returned to the house.

 

The staff were running around, obviously unprepared for the sudden departure, cleaning and packing away their belongings.

 

She trudged to her room and started to pack away her own things, leaving most of the summer clothes in the closet, only packing her favorite items that she’d discovered this summer.

 

Later that afternoon, she was in the car, her mother in the passenger seat and Marcus behind the wheel.

 

In the end, it had been that simple.

 

She hadn’t even had a choice.

 

_ But didn’t you?  _ A voice whispered.

 

The city was just as lonely as she remembered it. The intricate carvings on the ceiling of their penthouse apartment were still there, taunting her, reminding her of how much she had changed that summer since that morning she laid awake before graduation, staring at the ceiling.

 

Her phone dinged from its cradle on her nightstand and she paused in her unpacking to hurriedly look at it.

 

**Bellamy Blake** _ The others are pretty pissed you left without saying goodbye. _

 

She sighed, sitting down on her bed and resting against her pillows.

 

**Clarke Griffin** _ Tell them I didn’t have a choice. _

 

**Bellamy Blake** _ You said goodbye to me ;) _

 

Her heart clenched.

 

**Clarke Griffin** _ It wasn’t a goodbye. _

 

She watched the little bubble as he typed his response.

 

**Bellamy Blake** _ You’re right, it wasn’t. What are you doing this weekend? _

 

Her heart fluttered in her chest and she clenched her cell phone tightly in her grasp, relief bringing tears to the corners of her eyes as she settled back against her padded headboard.

 

**Clarke Griffin** _ Whatever you’re doing. _

 

**Bellamy Blake** _ Wherever you are is where I’ll be too, Princess. _

 

She smiled and burrowed into her pillows.

  
  


\----

  
  


They had been home for a few days and she hadn’t even seen her parents, hadn’t even really left her room.

 

So much for coming home for a reason. 

 

They could’ve let her stay, she realized. They hadn’t needed her to be home at all.

 

And that made her angry.

 

Her texts with Bellamy kept her going, their conversations lasting all day, him calling her whenever he had a break.

 

She missed him so much.

 

Missed his face, his touch...Everything about him.

 

At night, when she was lying in bed, she would get herself off to the memory of him, of that night before she left. She longed to call him, to have him talk her through them, but she found herself hesitating.

 

That weekend. 

 

She was going to see him soon.

 

It came, slowly but surely, and he called her before he left town to head her way. She was already ready for him, waiting in her suite, before he even called.

 

She’d gotten up early that morning, unable to sleep any longer, she was so excited.

 

When he arrived, she rushed downstairs as fast as her feet would take her, her skirt flowing around her thighs.

 

Her parents weren’t home, luckily, so she hadn’t had to explain where she was going.

 

Bellamy’s Jeep was parked in front of her apartment building and she watched his eyes light up when she exited the building.

 

He put the Jeep in park and stepped out of the vehicle, holding open his arms so that she could run into them.

 

He laughed and picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as she giggled happily, clinging to his neck in relief.

 

“It’s only been three days and I feel like it’s been a lifetime.” She mumbled into his neck.

 

His hands were drifting up and down her back soothingly, just drifting underneath her tank top where it had ridden up at the bottom.

 

“I know what you mean, Princess.” He murmured.

 

She pulled back, her lips finding his and kissing him sweetly, holding him to her until he reluctantly pulled away.

 

“We better get going. Before I get towed.”

 

She chuckled and let her legs slide down his body until she was standing on the sidewalk once more.

 

“They wouldn’t dare.” She said with a smile. “My family owns this building.”

 

He snorted and rolled his eyes, his hands gripping her hips.

 

“Of course they do. Let’s go.”

  
  


\----

  
  


They spent the evening walking around the city after parking Bellamy’s car, drifting from shop to shop, playfully grinning at one another and holding hands.

 

His thumb would rub those soothing circles on the inside of her wrist, and she would occasionally stop to wonder if it would be inappropriate to jump him in the middle of Times Square and beg him to fuck her.

 

Probably.

 

When they got home, her parents still weren’t there, but Bellamy told her he shouldn’t stay, just in case.

 

“They’re going to know about you eventually, you know.” She whispered against his lips on the sidewalk where he was attempting to say goodbye.

 

She felt him stiffen against her somewhat and she pulled back to look into his eyes.

 

“What?” She asked, confused.

 

He shook his head.

 

“Nothing, Princess.” He pulled away from her, his fingers grazing her cheek once more. “I’ll call you when I get back?”

 

She nodded and kissed him one more time before she watched him drive away.

  
  


\---

  
  


August break came to an end too soon, Clarke getting to see Bellamy two more times before she was making arrangements to have her belongings transferred to Princeton.

 

Her room was littered with boxes she was filling, the smell of the Sharpie she used to label them potent and lingering in the air.

 

“So I thought maybe we could meet when I get there? Want to help me unpack?”

 

He was uncharacteristically silent that night, not nearly as talkative as he usually was.

 

“If you want me to, Princess.”

 

That was all he said and Clarke was starting to worry, her eyes drifting to her phone where it was lying on her bed, speakerphone activated.

 

“What’s wrong?” She asked, her worry bleeding through the line and she heard him sigh in response.

 

“I just-” He paused and her stomach clenched with worry. “Have you called that agent?”

 

She stopped what she was doing, leaving the shirt she had been folding on her bed, her eyes immediately flying to the corner of the room where she knew the agent’s card was lying at the bottom of her makeup bag, where her mother would never find it.

 

“I-” She hesitated. She knew Bellamy wanted her to call the agent, but she had been too scared. “Not yet.” She answered, swallowing and waiting for his response.

 

He sighed again and she could visualize in her mind’s eye the way his hands were running through his hair in frustration.

 

“You need to, Clarke. Don’t you owe it to yourself to give it a shot?”

 

She thought about what that would mean, meeting with Roan. Was she ready for that?

 

_ You’ll never know until you try. _

 

“I’ll think about it.” Was all she said.

 

He didn’t question her anymore.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The day before she was supposed to leave for Princeton, she woke early in the morning, the darkness in the sky still lingering somewhat, and snuck into the private parking where her mother’s car sat unused.

 

She was on the road as the sun started to peak out of the horizon, its glare bright against the clear view of the morning sky. The windows were rolled down, messing her hair up in its perfectly coiled braid. She was so suddenly reminded of that summer and all that had happened that she grinned, her sunglasses pushing up on the bridge of her nose.

 

She watched the landscape change from city to country, from country to beach. The sand was skitted out across the pavement of the road, reminding her of being  _ home _ .

 

With Bellamy.

 

When she pulled up to his apartment, she parked in the space next to his Jeep and silently closed her door. He didn’t know she was coming and she wanted to make the surprised as unexpected as possible.

 

He had texted her thirty minutes before to wish her good morning but she hadn’t pulled off the road to text him back. She wanted to tell him in person.

 

She knocked on his door and waited, could hear him moving around behind it, muttering to himself, probably wondering who was knocking on his door at 8 in the morning.

 

When the door opened, she watched his sleepy, confused expression morph into shock and then delight. She grinned and crashed into him, pressing her lips against his, his lips instantly opening and his tongue finding hers, drawing her into him and swallowing her moans.

 

She vaguely registered the door shutting behind her as she lifted herself in his arms, his strong forearms holding her against him as they continued kissing. 

 

Her back was suddenly pressed against the closed door as he roughly pushed her up against the wood.

 

She groaned, her head falling back against it, as his lips moved down her cheek and then her neck, finding her pulse point and lingering. His tongue laved against it, undoubtedly leaving a mark, and she whimpered.

 

Her hips moved of their own volition, rolling against his, feeling his hard length against her and longing to feel more of it.

 

He growled, his hand coming up to her chest, pulling the strap of her sundress down her shoulder, exposing her left breast to the cool air of the apartment.

 

“Oh God.” She moaned as he pressed kisses into her flesh, his tongue finding her hard nipple and lathing it with attention, his teeth biting the flesh lightly and pulling at it until it has standing even taller.

 

His hands gripped her thighs, holding her open and against him as he started to thrust against her pussy. The material of her sundress having long ago drifted so it wrapped around her waist, the material of his pajamas did nothing to hide the hardness of his erection where it rubbed against her underwear.

 

“Come on.” He murmured against her breast, nuzzling the soft flesh as he changed his angle so that he rubbed against her clit with each thrust.

 

She moaned, her orgasm rushing through her suddenly and without warning, her hands gripping his upper arms as his mouth continued to lath attention to her tits.

 

When she stilled, he moved back up her neck, wet kisses trailing to her mouth where he swallowed her stilted breaths.

 

“So good.” He murmured against her lips as he sat her back on the ground, his fingers drifting up her arm and righting her strap across her shoulder.

 

“Let me show you how good I can be.” She whispered, her hand falling to the waistband of his pajamas.

 

“Yeah?” He asked, his voice breathy and surprised. “That what you want, Princess?”

 

Of course Bellamy was more concerned with her wants than his own.

 

That was what made her fall in love with him, after all.

 

She barely paused at that internal realization, instead falling to her knees in front of him and pushing his pajamas down to the floor.

 

Her breath hitched slightly as she revealed his dick to her gaze, suddenly unsure of herself.

 

His fingers trailed across her cheekbone.

 

“You don’t have to.” He said, watching her swallow with uncertainty.

 

Her hands moved then, one wrapping around the base, experimenting with her touch.

 

He groaned at the small touch and she delighted in the sound of it, having never done something like this before.

 

The one experience she’d had with anything remotely sexual before Bellamy had been quick and unfulfilling, a true high school one off, and she hadn’t even  _ seen _ the guy’s dick.

 

But from what she could see, Bellamy was much larger than that guy had been, her fingers not even closing completely around the bottom of his shaft as she experimentally moved her grip lightly up and down, relishing in the moans she heard coming from above her.

 

“That’s it. Just like that.” He encouraged. 

 

She looked up at his face only to find him staring down at her, and she almost crippled under the love shining out of his eyes.

 

Holding his gaze, she slowly leaned forward, her tongue tentatively reaching out to lick against the tip and the precome that had gathered there, feeling as he jerked in her grasp.

 

Bellamy’s fingers were still drifting along her cheek as she encased the tip of him in her mouth and her eyes stayed on his, wanting to see every reaction to what she was doing.

 

It was intoxicating, watching him come apart because of her, even though she was certain he’d probably had better.

 

When she had taken him as far into her mouth as she could, Bellamy’s mouth dropped open, his eyes hooded as he continued to watch her learn her bearings.

 

She realized she couldn’t take him completely into her mouth so she used her hand to continue to stimulate the part of him that she couldn’t reach and before long, she had found a rhythm.

 

Bellamy was whispering to her, words of encouragement that made her core tingle and her thighs rub themselves together.

 

“Does it turn you on, Princess?” He asked, his voice wrecked. “Seeing what you do to me?”

 

She nodded, her mouth never leaving his cock, her eyes telling him what her words couldn’t.

 

He cursed, his head falling back briefly before lifting again, unable to keep from watching her.

 

She felt his left hand move to the back of her head, smoothing the hair away from her face so he could watch her. On the third pass, his fingers weaved into the loose braid, gripping her head lightly.

 

“This okay?” He asked and she nodded. 

 

Something about the way he was holding her in place, his hips now moving in small motions toward her, made her feel so unbelievably hot. Unbidden, her right hand moved below her sundress, finding her clit, and rubbing in small circles.

 

“ _ Fuck _ .” Bellamy groaned and she looked up again to see his eyes watching her rub her pussy through her underwear with hooded eyes. “That’s it. Get yourself off, Princess.”

 

She nodded, her mouth still working up and down his dick. When she reached her peak, she had to stop, her eyes clenching shut as she moaned around his dick, her hand stilling as her body shivered.

 

Suddenly, Bellamy’s hips moved faster, his grip tightening in her hair, and after a few thrusts into her mouth he was there, his cum leaving him in spurts and she swallowed it down greedily, eager to taste him.

 

After a beat, he released her hair and she moved her mouth off of his softening dick. She stood on shaky legs and leaned into the palm that held her face lovingly as he leaned forward to kiss her once more.

 

“I’m sorry.” He breathed. “I should’ve asked if it was okay to come in your mouth.”

 

She giggled and kissed him again, swallowing his regret.

 

“It’s okay.” She admitted, leaning her cheek against his chest. “I wanted it.”

 

He chuckled and she could feel it vibrate through her body.

 

“Did you now?” His voice was rough and it made her want him all over again.

 

“Always.” She responded, looking up into his eyes.

 

His fingers pushed her hair back behind her ear.

 

“Me too, Princess.” He murmured. “Me too.”

  
  


\---

  
  


They spent the day by the beach, watching the tide and swimming out into the shallows, laughing and splashing each other with the salty water.

 

By the time the evening rolled around, they had collapsed into the sand, sunburnt and tired, making out on their blanket and watching the sky fade into darkness.

 

They made it back to his apartment, eagerly searching the kitchen for food, hungry from the day’s activities.

 

Bellamy played some bluegrass on the kitchen speaker as she rummaged through the refrigerator looking for anything edible, the light from inside casting a glow across the linoleum floor.

 

She felt his arms wrap around her waist, pulling her up and back against his chest as she chuckled, his smile pressed against the side of her head.

 

“Dance with me.” He whispered in her ear.

 

She laughed as he twirled her in his arms, pulling her in close, his hand finding hers and holding it up, leading her in circles around the floor of the kitchen. 

 

The light of the refrigerator their only guide, he sung to her in his deep voice, the music fading into the background.

 

She wanted to remember this forever. This moment.

 

Her mind buzzed with a melody, eager to write it down, but instead she stayed in his arms, leaning against him and feeling his chest vibrate against the soft skin of her cheek as he sang.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


The bright sunshine of the morning was her alarm clock as she wearily blinked her eyes open.

 

She was unreasonably warm, even for the down comforter of her fancy bed, and it took her a moment to realize it was because she was locked in Bellamy’s arms.

 

They had fallen asleep on his couch, his chest against her back and his palms resting against her stomach as he held her close.

 

She smiled sleepily and burrowed back into his chest.

 

Her phone rang somewhere and she vaguely registered it, but she ignored it in favor of relishing in Bellamy’s warmth.

 

But then it rang again.

 

Somewhere in her brain, she registered what it meant and she jumped up on the couch, her eyes flitting around the room, looking for the small device.

 

“Hmm?” Bellamy hummed, her movement jostling him awake.

 

“Oh God.” She gasped.

 

It was moving day.

 

She was moving to Princeton.

 

She’d fallen asleep at Bellamy’s.

 

Oh  _ God. _

 

She jumped up, her feet hitting the floor and finding her cell phone on the kitchen counter.

 

She had multiple missed calls and messages from her parents, the last one at the top.

 

**Abby Griffin** _ Where are you, Clarke? I’m serious. I’m about to call the cops. _

 

“Oh my God.”

 

She quickly typed out a response to her mother.

 

**Clarke Griffin** _ Don’t call the cops, mom. I’m fine. I left early for Princeton and didn’t want to wake you, I’ll see you there. _

 

She prayed that was enough to appease her mother and started searching for her sandals.

 

When she found them, she turned to find Bellamy sitting up on the couch, staring at her from his perch on the edge of the cushion.

 

“So you’re going, then?”

 

She paused in her quest for her keys and turned to look at him.

 

“What do you mean?” She asked, genuinely confused.

 

“You’re going to Princeton.” He said. Not a question, a statement.

 

“I-Of course I am, Bellamy. I don’t have a choice.”

 

He snorted and she watched him run his fingers through his hair.

 

“Actually, one could argue that you _ always _ have a choice.”

 

Her brow furrowed and she opened her mouth, surprised.

 

“Where is this coming from? You knew Princeton was the plan. It always has been.”

 

He huffed.

 

“Yeah and was I part of the plan too, Princess?”

 

Her gaze shuttered as she registered the implication.

 

He stood from the couch and walked toward her, his hands resting on her shoulders.

 

“You don’t have to do this, Clarke. You don’t have to go to Princeton. You haven’t even called that agent.”

 

She looked up at his sympathetic gaze and suddenly, backed out of his arms.

 

“It’s not that easy, Bellamy.”

 

He sighed, his hands on his hips.

 

“Okay. I don’t want to argue about this.. I just want you to be happy, Princess. And if that’s at Princeton, then you should go.” He reached beside her to the dining room table and picked up her keys where they were resting in the bowl centerpiece and held them up for her.

 

He wasn’t trying to guilt her into anything, but she still felt guilty, somehow.

 

_ Maybe it’s because you know he’s right. _

 

“I’ll call you when I get there?” She asked, her tone sad.

 

He nodded and leaned down, kissing her on the cheek.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Princeton was beautiful, of course. 

 

She drove onto campus and looked around at the beautiful buildings, pondering her future - Walking to these ancient buildings everyday, learning about biology and shit.

 

She sighed as she pulls up to her assigned dorm and signed in with the perky upperclassman out front.

 

Her room was small but nice, her belongings already delivered by the movers. 

 

She immediately got to work unpacking everything, setting up her single bedroom just the way she wanted it.

 

“Next time, leave a note. Or a text. Something, Clarke. That was so irresponsible of you. I didn’t even see you come home last night.”

 

She swallowed back her retort as she turned to face her mother in the doorway.

 

“Sorry, mom. Won’t happen again.”

 

Her mother rolled her eyes, letting herself into the room and inspecting everything Clarke had done.

 

Clarke continued to fold her clothes, unwilling to engage in her mother’s pettiness any longer. She briefly wondered where Marcus was, but decided he was probably at the Dean’s office or something.

 

“What’s this?” Her mother asked.

 

She turned around to face her and realized belatedly that she had inadvertently exposed her mother to a piece of Bellamy.

 

Her mother was holding up the picture Bellamy had given her, the hand-carved frame that had been resting on her nightstand.

 

She mentally cursed herself for being so careless.

 

“It’s a picture.” She answered carefully, unwilling to give more information than necessary.

 

Her mother’s eyes narrowed at her distastefully.

 

“It’s from that boy, isn’t it?”

 

Her chest froze, her breath rushing from her in a whoosh.

 

“What boy?”

 

She watched, anxiously, as her mother threw the frame onto the bed. 

 

She instinctively jumped toward it before catching herself, realizing last minute that she was showing far too much care for a picture frame that was supposed to mean nothing.

 

“Please, Clarke. I’m your mother. And I’m not an idiot.” Her mother rolled her eyes and crossed her arms across her chest. “That bartender.”

 

She couldn’t breathe, the anxiety attack threatening to come up and swallow her whole.

 

_ How? What? _

 

“You think I don’t know about your little summer dalliance? Honestly. You’re a  _ Griffin, _ Clarke. Everyone knows who you are, even people at that little run-down bar you frequented this summer.”

 

Panic, real and clear, had a hold of her chest and was refusing to let go. She wanted to defend the bar, to defend Bellamy. And Miller. But she couldn’t speak.

 

“It’s what caused your little slip up this summer, isn’t it? That boy? Did he make you question the plan, Clarke? Try to convince you to stay with him, waste your life away in that broken down part of a vacation town?”

 

She shook her head then, unable to speak, but eager to prove her mother wrong.

 

“N-No, Bellamy wouldn’t-”

 

“Ah, Bellamy. A name for the bartender.” Her mother chuckled mirthlessly as she moved toward her from the other side of the room, her eyes narrowed and cold. “Hear me, Clarke. People like  _ Bellamy _ will never understand your way of life. Sure, he’s okay with it now, but he will always be resentful of you. Of your upbringing. People like  _ that _ will always judge people like us. They can’t change, not even if they wanted to. You have privilege. A beautiful, successful life ahead of you and he will  _ never _ understand.”

 

Her mother’s hand came up then, cupping her cheek and rubbing away the tear that had fallen down her cheek. It was a surprisingly gentle gesture and it shocked her to the core. She watched her mother’s eyes briefly soften until they hardened once more.

 

“Your place is here, Clarke. His is there. And if you know what’s good for you, you will realize that sooner rather than later. Get your mind back in the game and now.”

 

And then she was gone, turning on her heel and headed toward the door.

 

“You have fifteen minutes to meet me downstairs for our visit with the Dean. Clean yourself up and look presentable.”

 

The door had only just shut when Clarke allowed herself to cry, the sobs shaking her entire body. She sat on her bed, Bellamy’s frame in her hands, and allowed herself just five minutes to herself. For herself.

 

Fifteen minutes later, she was downstairs, ready to go.

  
  


 

* * *

  
  
  


August faded into September and Princeton was well underway.

 

She saw Bellamy at least once a week, whether he drove up to see her or she drove down to see him.

 

They didn’t really have time alone anymore as Octavia was home from her vacation and was lingering around the apartment.

 

The most they had were a few stolen moments in Bellamy’s Jeep, but never enough to actually get to where she wanted to be.

 

They would go on roadtrips sometimes, driving upstate to take in the views as the leaves started to fall. She wrapped herself up in her favorite scarf and watched Bellamy drive, singing along to the bluegrass on the radio.

 

When he returned her to the dorm, she accidentally left her scarf in his Jeep and she made him promise to bring it back to her the next time she saw him, but he never did. If she asked about it, he would smile slyly and tell her it was his now.

 

They avoided talking about Princeton, about her life, and he hadn’t asked about the agent anymore, obviously trying not to start an argument.

 

The agent’s card still rested at the bottom of her makeup bag, taunting her everyday as she put on her face for class.

 

But she couldn’t bring herself to call.

 

And even though she tried to forget it, her mother’s warning lingered in the corners of her mind. Every time Bellamy would stare disdainfully at the beautiful architecture of campus or remain silent on the line as she talked about her chemistry professor, she would remember.

 

She knew her mother’s poisonous words were stupid and that Bellamy didn’t resent her.

 

Not anymore.

 

But still, the clenching of her stomach would remind her of the day they met and she would second guess.

  
  


\---

  
  


December was the worst time of year. The fundraisers and parties were mindless opportunities for her mother and her friends to give to charity and pretend like they cared about others.

 

The worst was the one right before Christmas. It was a big ball-type affair and every year she would have to battle with her mother as she paraded every bachelor in sight in front of her for the night.

 

So she did something crazy without really thinking too much about it.

 

“What are you doing on the 23rd?” She asked Bellamy one night as they lay in the back of his Jeep outside his apartment, cuddling under the blankets he’d brought out to keep them warm.

 

“Not sure, why?” Was his response, completely unaware to what she had in mind.

 

“Um. There’s this party my mom wants me to go to. It’s the worst, but I was kind of hoping maybe you would come with me and make it a little less awful?”

 

He froze, his arm stiff around her shoulders. She registered the changed in his demeanor and sat up, her palm pressed against his chest as she looked up at him.

 

“What?” She asked, confusion coloring her tone.

 

He sighed.

 

“I don’t really  _ do _ parties, Princess. Not unless I’m working them.” He added as an afterthought, like it was just a fact of life.

 

She stiffen then, mimicking his reaction, as she registered his words.

 

“It’s just one party, Bellamy. We can sneak out after thirty minutes, maybe get a hotel in the city.”

 

He closed his eyes and she watched his jaw clench.

 

“No, Clarke.”

 

Her mouth fell open and she pushed off his chest, angry at the way he just shut down.

 

“So that’s it, then? No discussion? Just  _ no? _ ”

 

He opened his eyes and stared at her, his eyes heated and stubborn.

 

“Yeah.  _ No _ . I don’t want to go to some rich-people party where they all stare at me with pity as they profess their fake desire to help the needy.”

 

She gasped and moved out of the Jeep, her feet carrying her away from him toward her car.

 

“Clarke, wait, where are you going?” She heard him call after her.

 

_ He will never understand, Clarke. _ Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind.

 

“Home, Bellamy. To Princeton.”

 

He caught up to her, his hand on her arm turning her in his arms until she was facing him and his arms were wrapped around her waist.

 

“Wait, don’t go. Come on, I don’t want to argue with you.” He pleaded, his voice softer now. “If you really want me to go I- I can go. I’ll go to the party.”

 

_ He will always resent you. _

 

“I don’t want you to resent me for making you go to a party that makes you uncomfortable.”

 

He shook his head and pulled her in closer, wrapping his arms around her.

 

“I don’t resent you, Princess.” He murmured into her hair, reassuring her with his words.

 

_ They can’t change. Not even if they wanted to. _

  
  


\---

  
  
  


The night of the fundraiser arrived much sooner than she anticipated and as she and Bellamy drove to the party, her hands fidgeted in her lap.

 

“Hey.” He said, his hand finding hers and bringing it to rest on his thigh as he drove. “Stop that. I like those hands.”

 

She chuckled and leaned against the seat, watching him as he drove.

 

“You do, huh?”

 

He grinned cheekily.

 

“Not as much as other parts of you, but yeah, I’m quite fond of them.”

 

She huffed and rolled her eyes.

 

“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t know it. It’s been months now and still…”

 

His grip on her hand tightened.

 

“Are we in a hurry, Princess? When it’s time, I want to take my time with you. Show you everything I’ve ever imagined doing to you, make you come over and over.” He said, his voice low. She rubbed her thighs together as he went on.

 

“I guess I’m just a little impatient to have you inside me.” She responded, her voice husky.

 

He turned to glance at her quickly, his eyes dark.

 

“Soon. I promise.”

 

She sighed and nodded, her gaze falling to the roses in the floorboard that he had brought her that evening. She smiled, thinking about their future and wondering when “soon” would be.

 

-

 

The party was just as terrible as it always had been. They had been there for five minutes and she hadn’t seen her mother arrive just yet. Maybe she would be lucky enough to get out of there without seeing her.

 

Just as soon as the thought had entered her mind, she watched as eyes moved to the entrance, her mother and Marcus entering with an air of nobility.

 

Her breath hitched.

 

“Clarke.” Bellamy breathed beside her. “Are you okay?”

 

When her mother’s eyes found hers, she immediately zoned in on Bellamy, narrowing with anger.

 

“Um. You did tell your mother I was coming, didn’t you?” He asked as he registered the penetrating glare of her mother.

 

No. She hadn’t.

 

Her mother would’ve said no. 

 

But she would never make a scene here, in front of people.

 

However, as she watched her mother barrel through the crowd of people toward them, she was starting to second guess her decision.

 

“Clarke.” Her mother greeted, teeth gritted in a fake smile. She watched her nails dig into Marcus’ forearm with a wince. When she finally turned toward Bellamy, Clarke stilled. “And this must be Bellamy.”

 

Bellamy politely reached a hand out toward her for her to shake in greeting.

 

“Yes, mam. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

 

She watched with sadness as her mother stared at Bellamy’s hand with distaste before ignoring it completely to turn toward Marcus.

 

“We should get going, dear. Lots of people to see.” She turned back to the two of them, Bellamy’s hand finally dropping to his side as he realized she didn’t intend to be cordial in response. 

 

Her mother’s gaze lingered on Bellamy and she watched her take him in, moving up and down his body in judgement before turning back toward the party.

 

She caught Marcus’ apologetic gaze as they left, disappearing into the crowd.

 

“Bellamy, I-”

 

He untangled his arm from hers and was moving toward the exit at a rapid pace.

 

“Bellamy!” She yelled, uncaring about the eyes watching them with interest.

 

She rushed through the people, the sounds and colors of the room spinning in her anxious state to reach him. She caught up with him on the sidewalk outside, screaming his name.

 

“Bellamy! Please! Stop! Where are you going??”

 

He stopped, turning toward her, his face carefully blank as he looked at her.

 

“I’m leaving, Clarke. That’s what she wanted, right? I’m going back where I belong, which definitely isn’t  _ here. _ ”

 

She was crying now, her tears falling in a steady stream as she shook her head.

 

“Bellamy, no. Ignore my mother. You  _ do  _ belong here.”

 

He chuckled without any actual amusement, his hands moving up to loosen the tie that he was wearing. The one she had just complimented earlier that night when she had first seen him in his suit.

 

“No, Clarke. I  _ really _ don’t.”

 

She choked on a sob, angry with her mother, angry with the world, this whole fucking situation.

 

“But you  _ do, _ Bellamy. You belong with  _ me,  _ don’t you? Wherever I am is where you are too. Right?”

 

She watched his eyes close, his expression pained, as he ran his hand through his hair and knew what he wasn’t going to say before he even spoke.

 

“Your family, Clarke. These  _ people. _ I’m never going to fit in here. I’m never going to fit in with  _ you. _ ”

 

Her heart shattered into thousands of tiny pieces, irreparable, into the pit of her stomach.

 

_ He will always resent you. _

 

She was right.

 

Her mother was right.

 

She swallowed down the pain of that acknowledgement, hating its validity.

 

“Bellamy.” She whispered. “I love you. I love you so much. That’s the only ‘fit’ I care about.” She wiped away her tears. “But that will never be enough for you, will it?”

 

He paused at her words, his eyes shooting up to hers.

 

“Clarke. I-”

 

“No.” She stopped him, wrapping her arms around herself. “I get it. I do. Go home, Bellamy.” She said, her voice harsh and cold, so resemblant of her mother that she watched Bellamy’s face register shock.

 

She didn’t give him a chance to respond as she walked away.

 

He didn’t try and stop her.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


**2 weeks later**

  
  


She watched disinterestedly as her phone lit up on her bedside table.

 

Maybe it was her mother.

 

Maybe it was Bellamy.

 

Who knew?

 

They had both been calling her repeatedly.

 

Her mother had probably heard from her professors that she wasn’t going to class.

 

Bellamy?

 

She wasn’t sure.

 

She didn’t want to answer only for him to tell her again why they’d had to break up. 

 

Why he hadn’t come after her that night.

 

She wasn’t even at Princeton - She was with Wells. She’d shown up at his door, her face red from crying, and had taken her in. He’d hugged her until she was all cried out and told her she could stay as long as she needed.

 

So far, that had been two weeks.

 

Two weeks of wondering where she went from there.

 

She didn’t want to go back to Princeton. 

 

She was miserable there. And if she didn’t go back, she definitely couldn’t go back home.

 

Her heart called out to her, urging her to go to  _ him. _

 

But everytime she thought about him, she remembered the way he’d looked at her that night. The resignation in his eyes.

 

Eventually, she grew tired of her phone lighting up, so she stuffed it underneath a pillow where she wouldn’t have to see the constant reminder.

 

When Wells came back that evening with take out, she ate, uninterested in the food but knowing she needed the energy to continue surviving.

 

“You know you can stay with me as long as you want, Clarke, but… I have to ask… What is your plan? Do you have one?”

 

And for the first time, she realized… She didn’t.

 

She didn’t have a plan.

 

And she was fine.

 

As fine as she could be, at least. She wasn’t sobbing into her pillow because of her  _ lack of plan. _

 

Her whole life had been  _ so  _ planned, that she’d always been scared to go without one.

 

And yet, here she was, surviving just fine even as she veered off course. Her only anxiety stemmed from her situation with Bellamy.

 

“Wells- I don’t have a plan.” She said, her voice filled with wonder.

 

He nodded.

 

“Yeah, I assumed so.”

 

“No- Wells, you don’t get it. I don’t have a  _ plan. _ ”

 

He stared at her, confusion etched into his features.

 

She shook her head, grabbing her phone from under her pillow, and got out of bed for the first time in days, hastening toward her overnight bag she had hurriedly packed the night she skipped town. Finding what she was looking for, she pulled her makeup bag from inside and dug around until her hands clasped around the cardboard.

 

The agent’s business card had seen better days, smeared with various types of makeup, the corners curled in and frayed.

 

She dialed before she could think about it too much.

 

But when the voice on the other end picked up, it was Bellamy’s face that drifted to the forefront of her mind.

 

_ “You need to, Clarke. Don’t you owe it to yourself to give it a shot?” _

 

“Roan Azgeda.” Came the clipped greeting.

 

“Hi. Mr. Azgeda? I don’t know if you remember me, but this is Clarke Griffin. We met a few months ago?”

 

She heard a small chuckle.

 

“Ah yes. Ms. Griffin. I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever hear from you.”

 

She looked up to find Wells staring at her with wide eyes from across the room.

 

“Yeah, sorry about that.” She swallowed. “Did you still want to meet?”

  
  


 

 

* * *

  
  
  


 

**3.5 Years Later**

 

The road was starting to blur, she was staring at it so hard out of the window of the tour bus. Wells was sitting on the couch across the aisle, playing some stupid video game that made the sounds of swishing swords and she couldn’t help but sigh in affection at the juvenile habit of her best friend.

 

He had finally gotten to join her on her tour now that the school year was over and he was celebrating not having to write papers by playing said mindless video game.

 

She couldn’t really fault him that, even if the sounds of the video game made her sleepy.

 

Besides, she knew that the tour bus could get boring after a while. Especially on the longer legs.

 

But this was her life now.

 

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out to see a text notification and she smiled when she saw the familiar name.

 

**Raven Reyes** _ I can’t believe I’m about to see your face again. It’s been WAY too long this time, Griffin. _

 

She was right, of course. It had been over a year since she last saw Raven, but she wasn’t in town that often now that she was living in California.

 

**Clarke Griffin** _ Yeah, yeah, I know. It won’t be this long next time, I promise. _

 

She chuckled, shoving the phone back into her pocket even as it buzzed once more, her eyes starting to drift closed as she listened to the gentle whirring of the bus engine and continued to watch the landscape pass by.

 

Just before she fell asleep, she watched as they passed the sign welcoming them to New York, and her breath caught involuntarily in her chest.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Hears the collective swearing of the audience at the realization that we are about to jump ahead 3.5 years*
> 
> Yes, that's right.
> 
> A time jump.
> 
> Sorry, it was unavoidable. :D
> 
> Just remember, my stories will always have happy Bellarke endings because the show isn't delivering, so that's why I'm here. To deliver.
> 
> So what are your thoughts???
> 
> What the hell happened? 3.5 Years?? Clarke still talks to Raven?? Does she talk to Bellamy still too? What is gonna happen now that she's back in town?
> 
> WHAT ON EARTH HAPPENED TO ABBY WHEN CLARKE DITCHED THE PLAN?
> 
> (Do we care?)
> 
> Let mw know what you think in the comments, you know how I love them so.
> 
> Also, you can rant about me on Twitter like Sara and Lia do on a weekly basis, that works too. You can find me @MallidayWrites.
> 
> Until next Sunday....
> 
>  
> 
> -Mally


	7. Falling Down Like Pieces Into Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sunday is here and we have our first post-time jump chapter!
> 
> At the end of last chapter, I pulled a fast one on ya and put in a time jump.
> 
> We are now 3.5 years ahead, Clarke is almost 22 and Bellamy is almost 26.
> 
> Will we ever find out what happened during those 3.5 years?????
> 
> Well.
> 
> Let's just say I'm not Jason Rothenberg and leave it at that.
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**Falling Down Like Pieces Into Place**

 

**"Why Georgia" by John Mayer**

**"All Too Well" by Taylor Swift**

 

****

 

_ The push and pull of the ocean tide lulled her into a peace of mind, the constant cadence a tranquil backdrop to her humming as she strummed the rough strings of her guitar. _

 

_ The splintered wood of the porch steps was rough and comforting beneath the soles of her feet as she rocked them slightly back and forth across the surface. _

 

_ Humming, she nodded her head, leaning over to the notepad laying on the porch beside her and wrote down a few chords, strumming each one in affirmation before placing the pencil back down on the lined staff paper. _

 

_ The loud giggling of a high-pitched little voice pulled her away from her musings as she looked up to ascertain the cause of the sudden outburst of laughter.  _

 

_ The little girl in question was standing tall above the smaller one sitting on the sand, said sand now covering the seated girl’s head, falling through her dark locks and burrowing into the crevices and falling onto her hands in her lap. _

 

_ Clarke sighed, laying her guitar on the blanket she was sitting on, and stepped onto the beach, walking down to where the two girls were now both giggling. _

 

_ “Aurora.” She tried to use her very best scolding tone as the eldest girl’s head snapped up to look at Clarke with wide, innocent eyes. _

 

_ “It was an accident.” The six year old began. “I-I didn’t mean to. But Callie’s okay. Aren’t you, Cal?” _

 

_ The three year old turned to look up then, a silly grin on her face. _

 

_ “Sand, mama!” She said, giggling more. _

 

_ Clarke sighed, bringing a hand up to run through her long blonde hair in frustration. _

 

_ “Well, what do we have here?” A deep, amused voice asked, coming up behind her. _

 

_ She turned to look over her shoulder just as strong forearms wrapped around her waist and pulled her backwards into his warm chest. _

 

_ “It was an accident, daddy, I promise! I was just trying to carry the bucket to my castle and I tripped!” _

 

_ Clarke looked over to where the unfinished castle was sitting and shifted to look back at her husband. _

 

_ Bellamy was grinning, a wide, unapologetic smile covering his face. _

 

_ “You could at least act like you’re disappointed that our youngest is now covered in gritty sand.” Clarke scolded. _

 

_ Bellamy chuckled pulling her back further, placing a playful kiss on the side of her forehead. _

 

_ “What for? It was an accident. You heard her.” _

 

_ Clarke looked to their eldest, a disbelieving eyebrow raised at her innocent stare. _

 

_ Aurora’s hands were clasped together, clamping down with worry at her inevitable punishment. _

 

_ Instead, Clarke smirked and turned in Bellamy’s arms, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. _

 

_ “You know what? You’re right. It was obviously an accident.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Make sure you get all the sand out of her bathing suit before you come inside.” _

 

_ She patted him on the cheek twice, and pushed past him toward the house once more. _

 

_ The sight of his confusion was all too pleasing as she chuckled on her walk back. _

 

_ “I see how it is, Princess.” He called after her. “You better watch your back!” _

 

_ She laughed and turned to face him, moving backwards, her hand gripping the rails of the stairs with familiarity. _

 

_ “I’ll be waiting!” She yelled, watching him shake his head as he leaned down and picked Callie up, holding her as far away from his body as he could. _

 

_ She turned around, faintly hearing Aurora and her father speak in quiet tones. _

 

_ “I’ll help you daddy! What should I do?” _

 

_ She smiled at the small question and listened as Bellamy gave directions, the screen door banging shut behind her. _

  
  
  


_ —— _

  
  


“Clarke!” 

 

She jerked awake, sitting up and banging her head against the window in the process. Wincing, she lifted her hand to rub against the place on her forehead that would very likely leave a bruise for her make-up team to try and cover up.

 

“Ouch. Sorry.” Wells voice rumbled. “I tried calling you a few times, but you weren’t budging.”

 

She looked up at her best friend who seemed genuinely apologetic for her injury and sighed.

 

“It’s okay.” She realized then why he would be waking her up and jolted upright to look out the window. “Are we there?”

 

It took a moment for Wells to respond so she looked in his direction. He was looking down at his phone, completely ignoring her in favor of texting whoever was on the other end of his conversation.

 

After a beat, he looked up, seemingly remembering that she had asked a question and cleared his throat.

 

“Oh, yeah. We’re here. Home sweet home.” He said dryly.

 

Clarke rolled her eyes.

 

“Yeah, sure. Home. That’s what this place is.” Her snarky reply came without thought and she realized that just being in the same city of her childhood was causing her to revert back to her teenaged ways.

 

Wells chuckled and shoved the phone back into his pocket, stepping out his row of seats and into the center aisle.

 

“Listen, I know you like to ignore the first 18 years of your life, but you were in fact raised in this city, Griffin.”

 

She shrugged and leaned against the side of the bus, looking out at the city streets from her place beside the window. They were undoubtedly at the stadium and they would soon be switching over into a Lexus that would take them to their hotel.

 

Just watching the busy streets and the cars sitting bumper to bumper moving slowly toward their destination made her want to groan in displeasure.

 

She thought she had escaped this place and yet, here she was.

 

Home sweet home.

 

_ Wasn’t that your decision? _

 

She ignored her inner voice in favor of listening to her best friend.

 

“Have you uh-” Wells started but then paused when she turned to face him curiously. “Have you thought about dropping in on your parents while you’re in town?”

 

Clarke’s eyes shut as she huffed. Standing, she reached for her bag that was in the alcove above her seat and started searching for her chapstick as a distraction.

 

“Why would I? They never reach out to me either.” Was her response.

 

And it was true.

 

They had ways they could get in touch with her. They knew she was still friends with Wells. Wells had her number, her address - If they wanted to talk to her, they would.

 

Instead, they stayed away. 

 

Apparently, they asked about her to Wells whenever he made an appearance at one of their stupid little events.

 

But no, she had no interest in reaching out to her parents.

 

“Understood.” Wells said, and she could practically hear the patience dripping from his words. “And Bellamy?”

 

She paused. Her hands stopped rummaging in her bag and the zipper began to dig into the flesh on the side of her arm.

 

“What about him?” She asked, her voice low, daring him to say what he was actually thinking.

 

“Are you really not going to call him? Text him? Give him  _ some _ heads up that you’re coming into town? You haven’t been here since you left over three years ago, Clarke. Don’t you want.. I don’t know, closure or something?”

 

She forced herself to keep moving. She finally located her chapstick and pulled it out, jerking her bag from the cubby before making her way down the aisle of the bus.

 

“And?” She called without turning to look at him over her shoulder. “It’s been years, Wells. I was 18 and stupid. I fell in love with a guy who obviously didn’t feel the same and I’ve moved on.  _ If _ I end up going to the Hamptons, what does it matter if I see Bellamy? I haven’t thought of him in ages.”

 

It was a lie. And without looking, she could practically feel Wells look of pity trained at the back of her head and she absolutely did not want to see it.

 

She slung her backpack over her shoulder instead of lugging it at her side and made her way to the door at the front.

 

“Thanks, James!” She said cheerfully to her busdriver as she stepped down onto the pavement outside, her eyes searching the parking lot for Roan.

 

Of course he wouldn’t be around the one time she actually  _ wanted  _ him to be.

 

“You can’t run forever, you know.” Wells voice came from behind her and she sighed before turning around to face him. “Neither of you can.”

 

She looked down at the pavement, avoiding his gaze, refusing to allow him to see the sadness in her eyes.

 

“He’s not running from anything, Wells.” She turned around, her fingers tightening on the strap of her backpack, her eyes blinking away unshed tears. “It’s just me.” She whispered.

 

The wind picked up and she wondered if he’d even heard her at all, but as she pressed forward, making her way to the black vehicle that had just pulled into the lot to take them to the hotel, she decided that it didn’t matter anyways.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The hotel room was comfortable, the white down comforter soft and plush against her tired body. She ignored the voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like her mother which scolded her for throwing herself on the bed without taking her shoes off because she was just too exhausted to care.

 

She breathed in deeply through her nose, staring at the ceiling, deep in thought. The sounds on the street outside took her back to that day so many years ago when she was lying in her own bed, staring at the designs on the ceiling and dreading her summer in the Hamptons.

 

Back when she would have never dreamed her life would be where it was now.

 

Back before she fell in love.

 

And before her heart was thrown into a blender and scattered to the wind.

 

Even now, her life was all an act, and she realized the irony in that fact. 

 

This whole thing started because she wanted to  _ feel something. _ She wanted to sing her songs, to write about what she was feeling and share it with the world.

 

And now she was a pop star. Singing songs written primarily by other people, only occasionally with her input. 

 

Singing songs about love and break ups that weren’t hers to draw upon.

 

After Bellamy, she hadn’t wanted to date. But apparently that wasn’t a good look for a popstar, so she’d at least been out on a few public outings with other famous people who needed the good publicity.

 

Roan always set them up and she just did as she was told. 

 

When she sang her love songs, people just assumed they were about her significant others from the media, but in reality, they weren’t her experiences at all.

 

Her experiences were locked up in her mind and in her journal.

 

She still wrote her music, of course, but she never performed it.

 

Roan said it didn’t fit her “style.” 

 

“They’re too depressing, Griffin. Nobody wants to sing along to some sad song about a guy who didn’t love you. We need the Song of Summer, not an Alanis Morissette throwaway.”

 

She didn’t bother pointing out that LOTS of people sang along to Alanis’ songs. They were the perfect cure to any bad break up.

 

She digressed.

 

When the knock came to her hotel room door, she ignored it. 

 

She wasn’t ready. Just five more minutes. Five more minutes to lay here and pretend for a second that she was somewhere else.

 

With someone else.

 

The knock came again.

 

“Fine.” She groaned, throwing her head back against the blanket. “I’m coming, asshole.”

 

Wells was grinning when she opened the door and before she could even make a snarky retort, he stepped to the side and exposed Raven who had been standing behind him.

 

“RAVEN!” She squealed and the other girl laughed as they came together, hugging it out and grinning in surprised elation.

 

“What the hell, Griffin??” She asked, pulling away and pushing her shoulder. “What’d I do to make you leave town for so long, huh?”

 

Clarke smiled softly at that, appreciating Raven’s ability to avoid any conversation of Bellamy. 

 

For a long time, she had urged Clarke to reach out to Bellamy, to give him a chance to explain. But when she had finally been ready, Bellamy hadn’t reciprocated. So now Raven avoided the Bellamy conversation like the plague.

 

“Well, maybe if you smelled less, I would try and show up more often. Seriously, the people of New York would probably thank you for it.”

  
Raven rolled her eyes and turned to Wells.

 

“Honestly, you can’t make her behave? Not even for a day?”

 

Clarked grinned.

 

“In his defense, I’m always this snarky when I’m stuck in the state that sucked the life out of me for 18 years.”

 

Raven laughed and stepped forward, wrapping her arm around Clarke’s shoulders and leading her back into the hotel room.

 

“Yeah but then you met me, and I made everything all better.”

 

She didn’t say what they were both thinking, which was that she met Raven and then she met Bellamy. 

 

So truthfully, that probably evened it all out.

 

“So.” Raven continued. “Let’s get you ready for this radio show, yeah?”

 

Clarke sighed, allowing herself to be dragged to her bathroom where her make-up was waiting.

 

“If we must.”

 

Raven laughed and started sorting through Clarke’s bag, holding up various shades to her face.

 

“The faster you get ready, the sooner it’s over, and the quicker w e can party.”

 

Clarke snorted.

 

“Yeah, good luck getting  _ that _ one past Roan.”

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“Your tour, Clarke, I’ve gotta tell you - Those costumes are WILD. What inspired this particular show?”

 

Clarke was slowly being driven out of her mind. 

 

She was on some Sirius XM Entertainment morning show and they were asking all the same questions. It was like she had sat through this same interview twelve times before with twelve other interviewers.

 

“Well, you know, this album is all about what happens when relationships don’t necessarily go as planned, so we wanted to make this show a little darker in nature.”

 

The woman in front of the other round microphone grinned and nodded at her answer, like it was what she was expecting.

 

_ Of course it’s what she was expecting it’s the same answer she had given every other interviewer who had asked the exact same question. _

 

“Well, I personally love them.” The woman ended the line of questioning and sat up straighter. “You know, everyone is always talking about who your songs are written about and you’re always so coy regarding the subjects, but I really feel like you  _ shine  _ during those emotionally heart-wrenching songs. You’ve been through a tough one, haven’t you?”

 

She paused at the new question. There weren’t any pre-scripted answers for this question and she wasn’t really sure how to approach it. 

 

“Um-” She looked up through the glass window to see Wells looking at her with a solemn expression. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. There was a guy once-” She smiled softly into the microphone. “I-I thought he might’ve been the one.” She swallowed and looked away from the woman who was looking at her like she was the most interesting subject in the world. “But it didn’t work out, so I guess those are the songs that hit the most deeply. Maybe one day, if I find that relationship that lasts, that will change.”

 

When she looked up again, the woman was still grinning, but this time a little more slyly.

 

“Any hint as to which handsome fellow it was that broke your heart?”

 

Clarke chose to ignore the extremely personal question and put on her patented fake smile.

 

“Nope. Sorry. My lips are sealed.”

 

_ Not anyone you would know, anyways. _

 

The interview proceeded as planned then, Clarke supplying her fake as fuck answers and the woman eating them up like German chocolate.

 

Afterward, she met Wells on the other side of the glass and together with Roan, they made their way down the gray hallways to the waiting room outside the studio.

 

“Great job with that one question, kid. Just enough to give them a ‘scoop’ but also mysterious enough to keep the media guessing.” Roan bragged, smiling his megawatt smile. “I’ve trained you well, little one.”

 

Clarke rolled her eyes and shrugged out of the casual arm he slung across her shoulders.

 

“Keep calling me little one and you’re going to see my other training in action. The one I have every saturday with Grandmaster Kovar.”

 

Roan snorted and held the door open so that she and Wells could walk through. 

 

She loved Roan, truly. He had been good to her and they worked well together. 

 

But sometimes she had fantasies of punching him in the face.

 

Once they were in the waiting room, Clarke stopped short.

 

She had been expecting Raven, of course, as she had ridden with them to the interview in the first place.

 

What she hadn’t been expecting was the person Raven was waiting  _ with. _

 

“Octavia?” She asked, her voice quiet and timid.

 

Octavia smiled brilliantly and flung herself across the room, gripping Clarke in a tight hug.

 

“I can’t BELIEVE you’re finally in New York. As your friend, I’m upset that you’ve waited this long to see me. As a fan, I’m upset that I haven’t been able to go to  _ any _ of your concerts, you recluse. Honestly, who avoids touring in  _ New York? _ ”

 

Clarke was too stunned to react. She and Octavia had kept up via social media, of course, but had only gotten to speak on occasion. And it didn’t happen often, but everytime Octavia posted a picture of Bellamy to Instagram her heart would shatter just a little further.

 

“Well.” Clarke said, clearing her throat. “I’m here so you can stop being angry now and talking shit about me on Reddit.”

 

Octavia rolled her eyes “I don’t talk shit about you on Reddit. Twitter. I talk shit about you  _ Twitter,  _ Griffin. Get it right.

 

She stepped back somewhat before smiling again, this time a little less bright.

 

“I missed you, you know.” She said. “We all did.”

 

Clarke’s stomach clenched tightly and she felt like she needed to sit down.

 

It was ridiculous, really. 

 

She had obviously been lying when she told Wells it wouldn’t matter if she ran into Bellamy. How the hell was she supposed to cope with  _ seeing _ Bellamy, standing close enough to  _ touch _ him, when she couldn’t even handle a kind-of-sort-of-maybe secondhand mention of him by his sister.

 

Octavia hadn’t even said she was referring to Bellamy, and yet, Clarke’s heart started beating faster at the implication that she  _ could _ be referring to Bellamy. 

 

That maybe he  _ did _ miss her.

 

_ Stop it, Clarke. You’re not going down that road again. _

 

“I missed you too, Octavia.” She said softly, reaching out and squeezing the girl’s hand tightly and then letting go.

 

“Well.” Roan said, completely ruining the nice moment. “This has been fun and all, but let’s go, Griffin. We’ve got our pre-concert meeting with the planners to make sure everything is on track and ready to go.”

 

Clarke sighed deeply, wishing that she could just extend this moment a little bit further. It was so nice and the concert wasn’t even for another week - Did they have to meet at this very second?

 

“Hey wait, before you go.” Octavia said, interrupting Roan and stepping forward again. “We’re having a party at the bar tonight. We’re celebrating. Uh- Miller and Bell, they’re re-opening the bar. It was changed to their ownership a couple months ago and they’ve been renovating. You should come by.” She glanced at Roan. “If you have a chance.”

 

She watched as Wells reached out to take Raven’s hand and looked at her with that same look of pity she could feel from him earlier.

 

“Um.” She thought about it for a second. If she went, that would definitely 100 percent mean she would see Bellamy. He would most certainly be at a party celebrating  _ him. _ “I’ll think about it and text you.”

 

Octavia nodded and winked at her before turning and leaving the room. Wells held his phone up in Clarke’s direction.

 

“I’m headed with them to the beach. I’ll text you?”

 

She nodded and watched he and Raven leave, Raven practically dragging him out the door.

 

“Alright, we’re out.” Roan said, motioning for her to follow him.

 

She took one last longing look in her friends’ direction before turning and following suit.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


It’s not until later that evening, as she’s sitting in a circle of people talking about her like she’s not there, does she even look at her phone when it buzzes, desperate for a distraction from the planning part of her show’s preparation.

 

**Wells** _ If you do get a chance to get away and come to the bar, Bellamy’s not gonna be there. He has a meeting. _

 

Clarke’s breath hitched. 

 

She looked around at the people in the circle and realized that none of them had even noticed her gasp.

 

A part of her was tempted. 

 

Another part of her whispered “What’s the point of going if you won’t see  _ him? _ ”

 

And it was that traitorous thought that pushed her. The fact that, even now, after all this time, she longed to see Bellamy. 

 

She had to move past this.

 

“I have to go.”

 

That seemed to do the trick, as all at once, the people in her circle looked up from their conversations to stare at her in confusion, almost like they hadn’t even realized she was there.

 

She stood quickly and walked toward the exit trying to make it out before they could stop her.

 

“Clarke!” Roan called, jogging after her. She sighed and paused, turning to wait for him to speak. “Are you going to the Hamptons?”

 

She nodded and chewed on her bottom lip, hoping he wouldn’t have a problem with her sudden independence.

 

He chuckled instead.

 

“Don’t do anything to land yourself in the Gossip pages, okay? Not the publicity we’re looking for, America’s Sweetheart.”

 

She sighed  before smirking, raising her eyebrows at her agent in challenge.

 

“Of course not. Wouldn’t dream of it, Yoda.”

 

Roan rolled his eyes and shooed her from the room with his hands.

 

“Go, be merry, flirt with cute boys and girls, I don’t care. Just be back the morning of your concert.”

 

And with that, he turned and walked back to the circle of planners, taking his place and immediately joining in on the conversation.

 

Clarke took that as her cue and high tailed it from the room before he could change his mind.

  
  


* * *

  
  


When she arrived, the party was in full swing. The bar was full of people and the woman singing on stage was getting whoops and hollers from the men and women in the crowd.

 

She grinned at the familiar atmosphere and smell that surrounded her.

 

Octavia had been telling the truth.

 

They had fixed the place up. The building wasn’t as dive bar-esque as it had been that summer, but it was still The Bunker. There was new lighting and new woodwork everywhere, tables and chairs littering the floor surrounding what looked like a new stage.

 

Even though it wasn’t Tuesday, they’d obviously decided to celebrate by having an Open Mic night, people signing up beside the stage on the little touch screen monitor.

 

That was one of the biggest changes, she realized. 

 

It had been updated. More suited for the 21st century than it had been before and she knew that Bellamy and Miller’s business model was going to keep this bar going for a long time to come.

 

With the crowd of people surrounding her, no one had recognized her yet. She’d left her hair down so it hung her face, somewhat obscuring her identity 

 

Walking up to the bar, she noticed the beautiful new wood of the bartop and the intricate carvings in the side that seemed so familiar to her.

 

Her breath hitched as she realized why - This was Bellamy. 

 

Bellamy had made this bar. 

 

And it was beautiful. She could feel herself gasp and tear up as she realized she was standing next to something that he had built with such love and attention to detail. Being next to this bar, it was like standing next to  _ Bellamy. _

 

She was suddenly overcome with the desire to see him, in spite of everything that had happened between them. She just wanted to see his face, to apologize.

 

_ No. Don’t do this. _ She pleaded with herself.

 

She had almost shaken herself out of her own mind when she looked up and stopped short.

 

There, hanging on the wall behind the bar was a little collection of sorts. 

 

It was  _ her. _

 

A picture of her singing on stage here at the bar, framed. Next to it was a framed napkin with a little plaque below it that she squinted to read.

 

**Actual napkin used by THE Clarke Griffin, here at The Blunker**

 

She burst out laughing at that, elated suddenly and for no reason at all until she stopped to think about it.

 

He had a picture of her hanging in  _ his bar.  _

 

In this place he loved so much and had put so much love and effort into, he wanted to be reminded of  _ her. _

 

_ Or it could be Miller. _ Her innermost voice taunted her, stopping her hopeful train of thought short.

 

Uncertainty plagued away at her, even as her eyes were glued to the hand-carved frame that surrounded the picture her figure holding her guitar and singing into the microphone.

 

A frame that was a direct match to the one sitting in her suitcase.

 

“You know, if I could get you to actually use a napkin tonight so that plaque isn’t lying, that’d be awesome.”

 

She turned at the sound of an amused voice to find Miller standing three feet away from her, having obviously been watching her take in her small area of dedicated wall space.

 

She grinned and nodded.

 

“Of course I will. Wouldn’t want you to be a liar, after all. I’ll even sign it if you want.”

 

Miller’s hand went to his heart, his mouth opening in mock shock.

 

“You  _ would? _ Oh my gosh, we would be so grateful!”

 

She laughed openly and leaned over the bar, pulling her friend into a hug.

 

“It’s been a while.” She said over his shoulder and she could hear him chuckle as they pulled apart.

 

“You could say that. Last time I saw you, you were just a teenager looking to escape her parents. Look at you now! All grown up and on your own.” He smiled at her and she felt proud of all she’d done since the last time she’d seen Miller. 

 

It had felt like an uphill battle back then, trying to live under her mother’s imposing shadow. And after all these years, she  _ had  _ finally escaped.

 

“It’s true. I’m  _ so  _ grown up now.” She said wryly.

 

“Clarke!” She heard someone shout to her left and she turned just in time to be pummeled by Octavia. “I knew you would come!”

 

The other girl pulled away, grinning, and Clarke didn’t have the heart to tell her that the reason she’d found the courage to come was because Wells told her Bellamy wouldn’t be there.

 

“You convinced me. You were  _ so _ convincing.”

 

Octavia laughed and she saw Wells and Raven walk up behind her, hand in hand.

 

“Yeah well, it’s in my genes.” She snarkily responding, hopping up on the bar stool underneath the countertop. “Vodka tonic, please.”

 

Miller rolled his eyes and started making the drink.

 

“This is number two, Octavia. Don’t make Bellamy kick my ass.”

 

Clarke stopped breathing momentarily and she looked around, furtively hoping that no one had caught her quick intake of breath.

 

Of course Wells had and he was looking at her with concern, so she shook her head at him, letting him know wordlessly that she was okay.

 

“Whatever, I can hold my alcohol much better than other petite brunettes my age, I will have you know.” Octavia argued.

 

Miller sat the drink down on the bar in front of her and she immediately took a sip while looking around the bar curiously.

 

“Speaking of my big brother, where is he? Isn’t this party for  _ him? _ ” Octavia asked, oblivious to the way Miller’s eyes suddenly cut across the bar to Clarke who immediately looked away, trying to appear as uninterested as possible.

 

“He had a meeting. Didn’t he tell you?” Miller responded carefully.

 

Octavia nodded, sipping her drink and then sitting it down again.

 

“Damn it, that’s right. With Luna. I totally forgot.”

 

Clarke had stopped breathing yet again, and somewhere in her brain she realized that if she didn’t stop doing that, she was going to pass out in the middle of the party.

 

But she couldn’t help it.

 

Luna? Who was Luna?

 

_ No one you need concern yourself with. _

 

“So! Clarke!” She turned to Raven who was firmly snuggled into Wells’ side, his arm slung across her shoulder. “It’s open mic night, in case you didn’t notice.”

 

Clarke wanted to say something snarky about how she’d have to be an idiot not to notice the line of people who’d taken the stage to sing since she’d walked in, but she didn’t.

 

“I did notice. I don’t think these people want to see someone like me up there.” She nodded to the tiny stage she had once frequented and lamented the fact that her status as a fluffy popstar now diminished her talent in the eyes of many people. 

 

It didn’t matter to the vast majority that she’d started in this tiny little dive bar, playing piano and guitar, singing songs she’d written herself. 

 

To the populus, she was Clarke Griffin, the popstar who sang cookie cutter radio bops without any substance or ability required.

 

“Oh come on.” Raven said, her fist tapping against the top of Clarke’s shoulder in a consoling manner. “The people here will always remember you the way you were. Please? We’d love to hear you sing again.  _ Your _ songs.”

 

Raven knew her battle with her label about her image and how they refused to allow her to sing her music. 

 

She stopped to consider the challenge for a moment.

 

The bar had been upgraded, but the sounds surrounding her were the same. 

 

The clinking of glasses, the light laughter mixed in with the low mumbling of voices of people who sat around, waiting for someone else to walk onto that stage and impress them.

 

Apparently, her feelings of anxiety were the same too.

 

She hadn’t performed anything personal in so long, it almost felt like that first night Wells had tried to convince her to sing in front of a bar full of people she didn’t know.

 

“I don’t know.” She whispered, looking around at the groups of people sitting and drinking. 

 

It was nerve-wracking, thinking about singing here again.

 

The first time she had performed here, it was because she’d wanted to distract Bellamy from his ex-girlfriend.

 

This time, there wasn’t a Bellamy in sight and she was trying to ignore the little voice in her mind that was sad about that fact.

 

“Hey.” She looked up at her best friend, his face creased in worry. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. No one’s pressuring you, Clarke.”

 

Raven shook her head, echoing her boyfriend’s statement.

 

“Yeah, you definitely don’t have to. I just thought you might enjoy it. For old time’s sake. Before you ditch town again for another three years.”

 

“Three and a half, actually.” Miller said and her eyes swung to him where he shrugged and cleaned out a glass. “I’m not the one keeping track.”

 

She inhaled sharply, wondering what he meant by that, but then quickly forced herself to not linger on the thought for too long.

 

“For old time’s sake.” She echoed, her voice dreamy and hollow as she considered their words of encouragement.

 

Octavia grinned at her, nodding her head.

 

“I mean, I haven’t gotten to see you live, Ms. Let’s-Avoid-New-York-Like-the-Plague.” She said with a raised eyebrow and Clarke sighed.

 

“Fine.”

 

Octavia’s fist rose in the air in triumph and Raven whispered “Yes!” under hear breath. Miller chuckled and nodded toward the stage.

 

“It’s empty for another twenty minutes if you’re feeling game.” He said, glancing down at the monitor under the bar where he could see the sign up list for Open Mic.

 

Clarke laughed and fidgeted with the strap of her summer dress.

 

“I haven’t sung on acoustic in so long… What if I suck?”

 

Wells snorted unattractively.

 

“I have to listen to you practice your songs all the time, you know. You don’t suck. And  _ your  _ music is decidedly better than the music you record. Besides.” He nodded toward Miller who then grinned and dropped below the bar for a moment before reappearing with a large object. “I brought this.”

 

She gasped when she realized the object Miller had retrieved was her guitar, the shape of it familiar and covered in stickers from her travels.

 

“You idiot! You brought my guitar to the bar!” Clarke said through gritted teeth, leaning over and taking her instrument from the bartender and hugging it to her chest, resting the base on the floor.

 

Wells rolled his eyes as he watched her protectively clutch the case.

 

“You’re ridiculous. Of course I brought your guitar. I can read you like a book, Griffin. Besides, if you had said  _ no _ , I would’ve just returned it tomorrow and you never would have been none the  wiser.” He shrugged. “But you didn’t, so… you’re welcome.”

 

She glared at her best friend before looking down at the guitar, the feel of it in her hands comforting in the stressful situation.

 

“Fine. One song.” She mumbled, setting the guitar case on the barstool and taking the instrument out, looping the strap around her neck, her fingers automatically moving to the stickers on the hard exterior, rubbing away at the worn adhesive. 

 

Wells smirked.

 

“So, go then.” He gestured to the stage and she glared at him as she moved past him to the raised platform.

 

As she got closer, she realized that the stage  _ was _ different now. 

 

It was in the same place, but it was much sturdier looking, the wood thick and solid, the intricate carvings around the sides of the platform told her that it was another hand-crafted Bellamy Blake piece of art.

 

It felt like he was with her then, as she stepped up onto his stage, knowing that he had put so much work into making this small stage something special. 

 

Something beautiful.

 

The crowd looked up and one at a time, she could her the moments when people realized who she was, the cheers coming unbidden, sending a thrill through her at the sound. It didn’t matter how many times she performed, the noise the crowd made, the grin that it caused - It never changed. Knowing that the people here  _ knew who she was _ and wanted to hear her perform, it was a rush. A high, even. 

 

And it made her miss Bellamy every time. 

 

His confidence in her, his support of her dreams. The way he had urged her to follow her heart.

 

She just wanted him to see her now. To know what she’d accomplished. 

 

To be proud of her.

 

Of course, the picture showed he at least knew she had made it. That she was living her dreams. 

 

But was it so bad for her to want him to be curious? To want to know her too? The way she still wanted to know him?

 

The crowd’s cheers died down as the lights in the audience dimmed and the stage lights brightened. They waited patiently for her to begin her performance.

 

The anonymity of the stage had always been a comfort to her, especially in the beginning and that hadn’t really changed very much.

 

Standing up there, her guitar ready to go, she felt like she could sing anything and that people would listen. She didn’t have to worry about radio play or sales figures.

 

She could just sing.

 

She strummed a C Major chord before she even thought about it too hard, the song she wanted to sing coming easily and naturally as breathing.

 

I walked through the door with you, the air was cold,

But something 'bout it felt like home somehow and I

Left my scarf there at your sister's house,

And you still got it in your drawer even now.

 

Her lyrics came and went, the eyes of her friends heavy as she was sure they registered who the song was about. She hadn’t meant to go up there and pour her heart out about Bellamy, but the second she stepped up on his stage, she knew it was what she had to do.

 

And I know it's long gone,

And that magic's not here no more,

And I might be okay,

But I'm not fine at all.

 

It hurt to admit, especially here, but she knew this was also the one place where she could be completely honest.

 

'Cause there we are again on that little town street.

You almost ran the red 'cause you were looking over me.

Wind in my hair, I was there, I remember it all too well.

 

Closing her eyes, she thought back to all the moments she remembered as she sang about them, running her memories through her mind like a film reel on repeat.

 

'Cause there we are again in the middle of the night.

We dance around the kitchen in the refrigerator light

Down the stairs, I was there, I remember it all too well, yeah.

Maybe we got lost in translation, maybe I asked for too much,

And maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up.

Running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well.

 

She could feel the tears now, waiting in the corners of her eyes, and she blinked furiously trying to keep them from falling, but it was useless. In the end, they fell, glistening in the bright lights above the stage.

Wind in my hair, you were there, you remember it all

Down the stairs, you were there, you remember it all

It was rare, I was there, I remember it all too well

 

The final chord rang throughout the silent bar, the audience sitting so still, a pen dropping on the ground would’ve made more sound.

 

Her friends were the first to cheer, their voices loud and familiar to her ears, and then the crowd followed suit, and she exhaled in surprised elation, the adrenaline rushing through her body.

 

When the lights rose, she looked up and was suddenly met with the feeling of what she would imagine felt similar to being hit by a truck.

 

It was Bellamy.

 

He was standing in the doorway, leaning against the door jamb, a grocery bag in hand. 

 

Her eyes flew to his, only to find he was already staring at her, his gaze penetrating and sure, and in that moment, she melted. 

 

Everything she had ever thought, every feeling she had ever suppressed, rose to the surface and she found herself holding back a sob at just the sight of him.

 

He was just as beautiful as she remembered, his dark eyes drinking her in, his curly hair falling across his forehead. She watched the hand gripping the bag clench and unclench and she realized he was anxious too.

 

She wanted to run to him. 

 

To tell him she was sorry. 

 

That she should’ve called sooner, that she had been stubborn, waiting for him.

 

To ask him why he hadn’t  _ called her _ . Why he hadn’t even  _ tried. _

 

But she stayed still, her heart racing, her mind moving a thousand miles a minute, and considered every option and every scenario.

 

She stepped slowly down from the platform, her hand gripping her guitar tightly as she made her way through a crowd of well-wishers and back-patters to where her friends were still waiting at the bar, Bellamy heading toward them.

 

She looked at Wells who seemed very sick-looking all of a sudden as he mouthed “I’m sorry” behind Octavia as Bellamy moved behind the bar.

 

She shook her head, ignoring the apology. 

 

What was done was done. There wasn’t any use being mad. It wasn’t like Wells had been lying. Bellamy had apparently just come back from his appointment early.

 

She stepped up to the group and they were all smiles, obviously pleased with her performance.

 

“You were amazing, Griffin. Just as good as I remembered.” Octavia spoke first, stepping forward to pull her into a hug and then moving away. “Now I know what I was missing out on all those years of touring.”

 

Clarke chuckled, somewhat uncomfortably, and moved forward, placing her guitar back into the case. She pulled the lid closed and snapped the clasps tightly.

 

“I should probably take this out to the car. Don’t want anything to happen to it.” She nodded and moved toward the exit before anyone could say anything else.

 

She felt like she couldn’t breathe or like she was breathing underwater, gasping for air by the time she made it outside. 

 

She leaned against the wall beside the door, trying to catch her bearings before straightening and walking toward the car once more.

 

Opening the trunk of the Lexus she had driven to the bar, she placed her guitar inside and stepped back, closing the hatchback softly.

 

“I remember it too.” A voice whispered behind her.

 

She jumped, turning on the spot and leaning against the vehicle to see Bellamy standing a few feet away, his hands in his pockets, an unreadable look on his face.

 

“I was there too.” He continued. “But I don’t remember it the way you do, Clarke.”

 

Her eyebrows furrowed and she narrowed her eyes.

 

“Oh? And how do you remember it?”

 

Bellamy shook his head, running his hands through his hair. The familiar gesture caused her heart to ache desperately. 

 

She longed to step forward, to pull him into her arms. To apologize, to say whatever it was that he wanted to hear, just to hold him again. 

 

To feel him against her one more time.

 

“Does it matter?” Came his rough response, his voice still causing her to shiver even all these years later.

 

She wanted to cry, to ask him why he even brought it up if it didn’t matter. 

 

To make him talk to her. 

 

To make him  _ listen _ to her.

 

“I guess not.” She said instead.

 

Bellamy looked at her again then, his gaze haunted and full of unspoken words that she wished he would just  _ say. _

 

“I should go.” He mumbled and then turned, walking back to the bar, his shoulders stiff, his hair blowing in the breeze from the ocean mere feet away.

 

When he disappeared inside, she whimpered and fell back against the bumper. 

 

The Bellamy she’d seen was a stark contrast to the Bellamy she knew.

The Bellamy she found herself daydreaming about more times a day than she cared to admit.

 

She cried softly, her eyes finding the waves of the ocean crashing ceaselessly against the shore and remembering that summer.

 

She mourned the loss of him.

 

The loss of  _ them. _

 

What they could have been.

 

_ You shouldn’t be here.  _ The voice inside her reasoned.

 

And for once, she listened to herself.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**3.5 years earlier**

 

_ “Go home, Bellamy.” _

 

Clarke’s words reverberated in his brain as he watched her walk away, her retreating figure growing smaller as his own insecurities ate away at him.

 

_ What the fuck are you doing, Bellamy? Go after her! _

 

He started to move, his feet taking him in her direction, when a voice from the darkness startled him and stopped him in his tracks.

 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

 

The ice in her voice was unmistakable and he watched as Abby stepped out of the shadows, her silhouette lit up by the streetlamp on the sidewalk outside.

 

When she raised an eyebrow at his lack of response, he watched her step forward yet again, her words continuing.

 

“You’re right, Bellamy. You’ll never fit in here.” Her eyes were piercing and he had to look away, his gaze falling to the ground beneath his feet. The cracks in the sidewalk a welcoming distraction from the hateful gaze of the woman making her way in his direction.

 

He could feel his fists clenching as he struggled to get his anger and anxiety under control, his teeth grinding together in frustration.

 

“Clarke is charmed. She lives a perfect life of prestige and power, one you could never hope to understand.” Abby said, her voice deceptively light.

 

It was like acid pouring over his wounds, festering the fresh cuts on his heart.

 

“If you love her the way I think you do?” She stepped in front of him so that he had to look at her, the coolness in her eyes unyielding. “You’ll do what’s best for her. Leave her alone. Disappear and don’t look back.”

 

She stayed still, staring him down, proving her point, and then she moved away, her back to him as she made her way back to the party. 

 

She was almost gone when she turned to face him one final time.

 

“Go back to where you came from, Bellamy Blake.” Her mouth was thin, a hard line of displeasure at his presence.

 

He glared at the woman who, in that moment, he hated  _ so much. _

 

He glared and even still, he couldn’t help but say exactly what he was thinking.

 

“I feel sorry for you.” He spoke lowly, his voice rough and stressed, his anger and sadness overwhelming.

 

The shock on her face registered for but a moment before it was replaced with cool disinterest once more. 

 

The perfect facade of unfeeling that she had obviously mastered many years ago.

 

He ignored whatever she was going to say next and instead ran. 

 

Ran away from her and toward Clarke. He propelled himself in her direction, chasing after her through the dark streets of the city, looking back and forth down every crosswalk, making his way toward her apartment building. Hoping against all hopes that she had gone home.

 

When he arrived, he pressed the buzzer, waiting for her to pick up, but she never did. 

 

He called.

 

He texted.

 

But she never answered.

 

He decided to wait. Maybe she just hadn’t made it home yet. He would be here waiting for her when she arrived.

 

At around two in the morning, he resigned himself to the fact that she had likely gone somewhere else, and he called a cab to take him to his Jeep.

 

But he kept trying to get in touch with her. 

 

And he kept trying.

 

In no way anticipating that he wouldn’t hear her voice again for another three and half years.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THESE TWO ARE KILLING ME, SMALLS.
> 
> I MEAN HONESTLY.
> 
> I CAN'T WAIT FOR THEM TO GET THEIR SHIT TOGETHER.
> 
> And obviously they will because it's my fic and I make the rules.
> 
> So what are your thoughts? Who hates Abby more than life itself? Who thinks they already know what happened during the time jump? Why did they go THREE YEARS without talking at all? How about Bellamy hanging a picture of Clarke behind the bar??? Did you die?? I did.
> 
> Good to see Bellamy is still in the woodworking industry *wink wink*
> 
> And finally - That DREAM THO.
> 
> Or was it? 
> 
> Anywho, let me know what you think in the comments, you know I love them so.
> 
> Also, hit me up on Twitter and yell at me there @Mallidaywrites.
> 
> Until next Sunday...
> 
> -Mally


	8. I Can’t Say Hello to You and Risk Another Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So um.
> 
> This chapter made me cry because I'm a sap.
> 
> Also, I feel I should mention that this chapter will have flashbacks.
> 
> And that yelling at me on Twitter might be cathartic afterwards.
> 
> Anywho.
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**I Can’t Say Hello to You and Risk Another Goodbye**

 

**"I Almost Do" by Taylor Swift**

**"Can't Go Back" by Rosa Golan**

 

****

 

She was avoiding it now, she realized.

 

Going back to Raven’s place, that is.

 

She had been walking around the shops in the Hamptons for well over three hours and hadn’t bought a single thing. 

 

At first, she was able to reason with herself that it was because she just hadn’t found anything that she wanted to buy.

 

But now, as she passed by yet another little boutique with exuberantly priced clothing that didn’t suit her at all, she could admit that she just didn’t want to go back to Raven’s place and sit alone, wallowing in her own misery.

 

_ “But I don’t remember it the way you do, Clarke.” _

 

What did he mean by that?

 

She was a writer. She knew as well as anyone that there were always two sides to every story.

 

But in this case, she thought she knew the whole, fleshed-out version. She had all the facts.

 

Didn’t she?

 

Bellamy had made it obvious that he wasn’t interested in her. He hadn’t even tried to contact her over the years, even with Raven  _ right there _ to hand over her number.

 

Which she supposed made sense after that night in December at her mother’s gala. He had also made it clear that evening that he didn’t want to see her anymore.

 

That her love for him wasn’t enough for him to stick around.

 

But looking back now, older and wiser, could she really  _ blame _ him? 

 

Her mother had been  _ cruel. _

 

There was no other word for it,  _ or _ an excuse for it, for that matter.

 

And she hadn’t done anything about it.

 

She sighed when she remembered herself at 18, living underneath the regime of her mother’s will.

 

That summer had been her first taste of freedom. Bellamy had been the one to show her that she deserved to have a say in her life and that she should do what made her happy.

 

Who was she to hold it against him that he didn’t want to be around a girl who was still suffocating under the pressure from a society she wanted nothing to do with?

 

She knew better now.

 

She’d made it. 

 

And she owed it all to Bellamy.

 

It would be nice to be able to tell him that.

 

“Clarke Griffin!” She heard someone say her name and her eyes darted around suspiciously, waiting for the hoards of fans to convene. “Is that you?”

 

When she found the person shouting her name for all the world to hear, she realized that it wasn’t a fan at all.

 

_ Ugh. Seriously? This woman’s still around? _

 

“Ms. Collins.” She greeted with clenched teeth. “So nice to see you.”

 

Just because she had finally freed herself from their oppressive society of rich, white people didn’t mean she didn’t need to be friendly.

 

Goodness knows if she weren’t, the tabloids would hear about it.

 

The woman in question’s blonde hair was coiffed into a well-hairsprayed updo and she was suddenly hit with an onslaught of flashbacks of her asshole son.

 

The one she’d punched in the face.

 

_ Huh, what do you know? A real smile, Clarke. _

 

“Oh, you too, dear!” The woman’s fake sweetness brought her grimace back to the surface. “We all see you on the internet, of course, but it’s nice to see you in person.” The shiny veneers of the woman’s smile were making Clarke nauseous. “Why, I was just having lunch with your mother the other day! How ironic! She couldn’t shut up about your success.”

 

Clarke paused.

 

As far as she knew, her parents, her  _ mother,  _ hadn’t bothered to keep up with her career at all.

 

Then again, it was the perfect thing to brag about, she supposed - Having a famous daughter.

 

“Sounds just… lovely.” She fake-smiled again, waving her hand in the air in a gesture that made her cringe at the sheer pleasantness of it.

 

“Oh, it was!” 

 

Ms. Collins jumped slightly as her phone apparently buzzed in her pocket. She reached inside and pulled it out, staring at the screen. “Well, I’m afraid I must get going. Meeting with Finn’s fiance at the wedding planner’s office!”

 

Clarke cleared her throat to keep from laughing out loud.

 

_ Dear sweet Jesus, someone is  _ **_marrying_ ** _ that floppy-haired idiot? _

 

“That sounds nice!” She said instead. “It was lovely to see you, again, Ms. Collins.”

 

“You too, Clarke!” She leaned over and air-kissed each of Clarke’s cheeks. “You know, I always thought it would be  _ you _ Finn married! Oh well! I’m sure you will find someone that sticks around 

_ someday,  _ dear.”

 

The woman smiled and brushed past Clarke, leaving a trail of disdain in her wake.

 

_ This. This is why I left these shitty people and never looked back. _

 

Looking in the window of the storefront to her right, she stared at the reflection staring back at her.

 

She had changed so much since then.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


**3 Years Ago**

 

“Clarke!” Fingers snapped in front of her hazy gaze, bringing her attention back to the present. “Are you even listening to me?”

 

_ No. _

 

“Yes, Roan. I’m listening. Continue.” 

 

She ignored his blatant, unbelieving stare and continued to glare meaningfully at the wooden tabletop in front of her.

 

They were in some cramped coffee shop in Brooklyn that she had never even set foot in until about two months ago when these meetings started, but it was starting to grow on her. The wooden furniture homey and comforting in a way that reminded her of-

 

_ Nevermind. _

 

Looking out the window, she watched the people of the city pass by, finally shedding their warm clothes as June began to bring in the warmth they craved during the hard winters.

 

She hadn’t even  _ been  _ in the city during the winter this year.

 

Not since December at least.

 

When she’d left the gala that night and rushed to Wells’ dorm in Virginia, she had only been back once to quickly grab a bag of her stuff while her parents weren’t home, Wells on watch at the front stoop of her apartment building.

 

_ “What? You think your parents aren’t going to notice it’s me standing here outside their door and know  _ **_exactly_ ** _ why I’m here”?” _

 

_ “Shut up and stand there, asshat, I’ll be quick.” _

 

She’d been gone for two weeks when she called Roan.

 

It was a good thing she had called when she did because her mother cut her phone off the very next day. Clarke knew her mother did it because she thought that Clarke would come home without her phone. Come out of whatever hiding spot she’d found off her mother’s radar.

 

That she couldn’t make it without their support.

 

She was wrong.

 

It had been six months now and she hadn’t been home since.

 

_ So suck it, mom. _

 

“So we’ll definitely get started on those dance classes when we get to LA.” Roan was continuing whatever he had been talking about while she wasn’t listening.

 

But she definitely heard the part and she groaned at the statement.

 

“Don’t start, Griffin, you know this is part of the deal.”

 

She knew the deal. 

 

She had to “pop” up her image to make it, Roan said. Which meant the whole shebang - Dancing, sequins, back up dancers, stage props, the gambit.

 

It was disheartening, to say the least.

 

_ “I just don’t get why all this is necessary.” She argued flicking at a sample stage costume that had fallen in front of her face where Roan was throwing things at her from his side of the dressing room. _

 

_ “I told you Griffin, this is the deal. Take it or leave it.” _

 

Sometimes he would remind of her of that. That the only way she could stay on the label was to go along with their “plan.”

 

And it reminded her so much of Abby that she wanted to run again.

 

Had she really just traded one person’s plan for her life for another person’s?

 

_ At least this way, you get to perform and do what you love. _

 

Roan sighed and she looked up at him at last, watching his eyes soften when he had her attention.

 

“Listen.” He started, clearing his throat. “I told you. Once you’ve proven your selling power and found success, the label will let you change up your image somewhat.”

 

She bit down on her bottom lip, her thumb chipping away at the old, weathered wood.

 

“I’ll be able to sing my own music?” She asked, her voice deep and hesitant.

 

Roan looked away, his gaze drifting to the window and then back once more.

 

“We’ll see.”

 

She knew it was all she was going to get for now.

 

“So when do we leave for California?” She asked another question, one that she was more scared of.

 

Roan straightened in his seat, smoothing down his tie and checking his phone screen that lit up beside him on the table.

 

“Three days. That’s how long you have to say your goodbyes.”

 

She snorted.

 

What goodbyes? She didn’t have anyone to say goodbye to.

 

Wells was in Virginia, working on campus over the summer for one of his professors.

 

Who else was there?

 

_ His _ face drifted in and out of her consciousness.

 

_ No. He didn’t even try to contact you.  _ Her inner voice scolded.  _ So what if your mom canceled your phone? Marcus said he hadn’t been by the house either. _

 

The thought hurt her so much she wanted to cry.

 

Again.

 

She thought she had finally stopped crying, but.. Maybe not.

 

Could she really leave town without seeing him one last time?

 

“Okay.” She spoke, her voice quiet and unsure. “See you in three days.”

  
  


\----

  
  


The smell of the bar wafted into her face the moment the door swung open.

 

It was like coming home.

 

She grinned at the scent of stale beer and the sound of the 90’s alternative rock drifting through the speakers hanging in the corners of the room.

 

Looking around, she didn’t see a lot of people, but then again, it was the middle of the afternoon on a beautiful summer day in the Hamptons.

 

She was sure most people would be at the beach.

 

Her gaze went to the back of the bar then, where the wall opened up, the ocean steps away. 

 

This place was just as homey as she remembered it from the summer before, the view just as beautiful. It was really something special.

 

“Holy  _ fuck. _ ”

 

The shocked sound shook her out of her musings and her head jerked up to catch the eyes of the person who spoke.

 

“Raven.” she breathed out, her voice sounding both broken and relieved at the same time.

 

Raven didn’t even respond as she swung her legs up on the bar, climbing over it, and running in her direction, sweeping her into a consuming hug.

 

She didn’t know why she started crying, the tears coming without reason or notice. She pulled away quickly, not wanting to get them all over Raven’s shirt, but the other girl just glared and pulled her back into the hug.

 

“Don’t you dare, Griffin. I’m not having it. I haven’t seen your ass in almost a year and I want my hug, damn it.”

 

She laughed through her tears, squeezing Raven tighter, and accepting the comfort that she was offering at that moment.

 

“I missed you.” She whispered into Raven’s shoulder.

 

Raven sighed and pulled back, placing her hands on Clarke’s shoulders and looking her in the eyes.

 

“Where did you go, Clarke?”

 

Her mouth opened as she started to answer but then she closed it again, trying to figure out the best way to tell her.

 

“Wells.” Was her unimpressive answer.

 

“Wells?” Raven asked, confused.

 

“I went to Wells. In Virginia.”

 

Raven’s mouth opened, a knowing look crossing her face.

 

“Oh. Well I guess that makes sense. But where have you  _ been? _ It’s like you disappeared off the face of the Earth.”

 

She nodded, knowing that she deserved this. For as much as she hadn’t spoken to Bellamy, she hadn’t spoken to any of her friends at the beach.

 

“My uh-” She paused, swallowing down her nerves. “My mom cut me off. So my old phone number doesn’t work anymore.”

 

Raven’s eye widened then, her hands gripping her shoulders a little tighter.

 

“Wait, you’re telling me your mom cut you off like _completely?_ _That’s_ why you haven’t been answering your phone?”

 

Clarke sighed, stepping out of Raven’s hands and walking to one of the bar stools nearby, sitting on top of it.

 

“Yeah. I haven’t even been home in six months. I dropped out of Princeton.”

 

She paused when she noticed the unsurprised look on Raven’s face.

 

“You don’t seem surprised by that.” She noted with interest.

 

Raven looked away, joining Clarke on top of a barstool before turning to face her friend again.

 

“Well I mean..” She trailed off, apparently thinking about what to say. “You didn’t want to go in the first place.”

 

It was true, Clarke couldn’t deny that, but it still seemed odd. She guessed she had been expecting a bigger reaction from her friend.

 

“Yeah. So anyways, I dropped out and went to Wells. My mother found out about it two weeks later and cut me off, thinking it would make me resurface.” She snorted. “Apparently, I’m more stubborn than she gave me credit for. Got it from her, I guess.”

 

Raven rolled her eyes, her hand pushing into Clarke’s shoulder.

 

“Don’t even. Don’t compare yourself to that woman. You’re nothing like her.”

 

Clarke’s heart warmed at Raven’s observations, and even though she knew it deep down, it was still nice to hear someone else say it.

 

“Yeah. Guess not. I haven’t seen home since.”

 

Raven paused at that, her body stilling.

 

“Wait.” She said. “You haven’t seen your mom in six months?”

 

Clarke shook her head, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her summer dress.

 

“Not since-” She hesitated. “Not since that gala in December.”

 

Raven shot off the barstool, standing in front of her friend suddenly and unexpectedly.

 

“The one you went to with Bellamy?”

 

Clarke winced at the sound of his name. She’d grown complacent in the past six months, being around Roan who didn’t know anything  _ about _ Bellamy and Wells who knew better than to use his name.

 

“Yeah. It was kind of the straw that broke the camel’s back for me. I just- I didn’t want that life anymore. The price was too high.”

 

She looked up to find Raven looking at her sadly, a look of horror on her face.

 

“Clarke. You have to go find Bellamy.”

 

Clarke stood from the bar stool herself, backing away from Raven, shaking her head.

 

“I-I can’t.” She whispered, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

“No, you don’t understand, you-”

 

“Raven.” She said, her voice soft but firm. 

 

Raven stopped talking and halted in her steps toward her friend.

 

“I’ll admit, I came here to-” She looked down at the ground and then sighed, her head tilting backwards to look at the ceiling. “You know what? I don’t really know why I came here.”

 

Raven all but growled, drawing Clarke’s gaze to her heated glare.

 

“Yeah. You do. You came here to see Bellamy and now I’m telling you - Go see him. He and Miller are at a job site. He-”

 

“NO!” She all but shouted. 

 

Raven stopped immediately, her eyes sad as she took in the rigid stance of her friend.

 

“I- I can’t do that to myself.” Clarke swallowed, stealing her resolve, her hands falling into fists by her side. “Not again. It was stupid coming here. I-I shouldn’t have, but I’m leaving and I-”

 

“You’re  _ leaving? _ Where are you going?”

 

She paused, realizing she hadn’t told Raven anything about what inspired her trip to the Hamptons.

 

“California.” 

 

Raven sputtered.

 

“Wha- California? Why?”

 

Clarke smiled softly, her eyes jumping to Raven’s.

 

“I called the agent.”

 

Raven took a moment to register what she said, but when she did, she grinned and jumped, her hands going to her mouth in shock.

 

“Wait. Clarke. You called the agent! You mean-?”

 

Clarke laughed and nodded.

 

“Yeah. I’ve been signed to a label.”

 

Raven screamed and crossed the room, bringing Clarke into yet another hug, this one much happier than the last, her feet lifting off the ground somewhat.

 

“This is amazing! I can’t wait to tell Bellamy! He’s going to be so happy he-” Raven pulled back, holding Clarke at arm’s length yet again. “Okay, seriously, you have to go see him.”

 

Clarke’s face fell again, pulling out of Raven’s embrace and stepping backwards.

 

“Raven, I know you mean well, but…” She trailed off and looked toward the stage at the center of the room, distracting herself by staring at the piano where she performed for the very first time. “It was never going to work between the two of us.”

 

She smiled a bittersweet smile, finally speaking all of the thoughts that had been housed in her mind for months.

 

“Not the way I wanted it to. He just-” She closed her eyes, bowing her head toward the floor. “He just didn’t love me the way I loved him. My-” Her eyes opened and she finally looked at Raven once more. “My love just wasn’t enough and I can’t do that to myself again.”

 

Raven was shaking her head. She stepped forward once, pausing when Clarke stepped back.

 

“Clarke no, you don’t-”

 

Clarke’s phone rang, the sound loud and clear in the bar, Raven cutting off at the noise. She pulled it of her pocket and looked at the screen.

 

**Roan** _ Change of plans, kid. Can you get back to the city by tonight? The guy I wanted you to start dance with is gonna be out of town sooner than expected so we need to get you to Cali ASAP. _

 

“I have to go.” She said, hurriedly shoving her phone back in her pocket.

 

Raven’s face turned panicky.

 

“Wait. You’re leaving? Already? As in  _ leaving _ leaving? To California?”

 

Clarke nodded, reaching into her bag and pulling out a napkin and a pen, writing down her phone number, and holding it out for Raven.

 

“Here. Text me. I’d like to keep in touch.” She admitted, her voice soft. “That is, if you want to.”

 

Raven’s features melted and she nodded, not bothering to hide her sadness at the situation.

 

“Of course I do.” She pulled Clarke into a hug one last time. “I’m happy for you, Clarke. You’re finding your own way. It’s exactly what he wanted for you.”

 

Clarke swallowed, the tears welling in her eyes once more as she quickly backed away, her hands wiping them away as they fell down her cheeks.

 

“I’ll be seeing you then.” Clarke nodded, turning toward the entrance to the bar.

 

She had almost made it when Raven spoke up once more.

 

“Clarke!” Clarke turned and gave her attention to her friend. “Can I- Can I give your number to anyone else?”

 

She didn’t specify who but Clarke knew she was referring to Bellamy.

 

Did she want Bellamy to have her number?

 

Her heart immediately jumped at the opportunity, urging her to say yes.

 

_ Don’t. It won’t end well. He obviously just doesn’t care the way that you do. Why else would he not even try and find you? And you’re moving to California. What good would it do? _

 

“Um. Not just yet.” She said, finding a happy medium between her heart and her head, the two warring factions within her. “But stay in touch, okay?”

 

Raven nodded and held the napkin tightly in her hand.

 

“Count on it.”

 

Clarke smiled a small smile and then turned around again, exiting the bar that changed her life.

 

The bar she wouldn’t see again for three years.

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


**Present**

  
  


Tapping her fingers on the wheel of the Lexus, she looked along the left side of the highway, searching the shoreline for her destination.

 

She couldn’t remember exactly where it was, Bellamy having driven them there the last time they went.

 

She knew she was playing with fire, purposefully searching out a location that meant so much to him.

 

To them.

 

She almost passed it when she found it, her eyes registering it before her foot could bring the vehicle to a stop.

 

Even still, she somehow managed to swing the vehicle into the little parking lot of the overlook, bringing her blanket with her from the backseat.

 

She stepped carefully over the sandy edge of the hillside, the rocks digging into the soles of her flip-flops as she made her way over to the little white bench.

 

Honestly, she couldn’t believe it was still there.

 

The bench had seen better days. It had been old and weathered the last she was there, which was why she thought ahead and brought the blanket to sit on, trying to prevent herself from getting splinters in the skin of her thighs while she sat.

 

She didn’t know what inspired her to come here.

 

She just wanted a place to get away. To think, without Wells and Raven around to look over her shoulder and give her “advice.”

 

The breeze off the ocean was comforting as she sat and watched the waves crash into one another. She inhaled the salty air and felt like she was breathing in the comfort of home, exhaling all of her worries.

 

It had been almost four years since that summer and she was older now, and while four years theoretically didn’t seem like a lot, she still giggled when she remembered how young she had been.

 

But even though she had been young, she knew what she had felt for Bellamy was  _ real. _

 

_ You mean what you  _ **_still_ ** _ feel? _

 

She sighed. 

 

Even her innermost voice-of-snark was calling her out on her bullshit now.

 

Throwing her head back, feeling the wind blow through her hair, she could almost hear the sounds of her laughter as she and Bellamy rolled around in the sand, feel the weight of him on top of her, the warmth of his skin against hers.

 

_ “Just wanted to look at you.”  _

 

_ And then he did. She felt the chills increase as his eyes roamed over her skin, taking her in. She wanted to press herself up against him and beg him to touch her, to stop teasing her with his promising stares. _

 

_ She grinned mischievously, her hand moving up to wrap around his neck. _

 

_ “And?” She said lowly. “Satisfied?” _

 

_ He chuckled and pushed her over onto her back, rolling on top of her, his knee digging into the pliable ground beneath her towel between her legs. _

 

_ “You have no idea, Princess.” _

 

She smiled, her eyes still closed, the sun falling on her face, as she remembered how it felt being loved by him.

 

Or what she had thought was love at the time.

 

Her eyes opened and she looked back out at the waves, wishing she could stay there forever. 

 

In the end, maybe she would.

 

Her fingers slid over the rough splinters of the wood, feeling the carvings there, as she remembered the way she had carved her own message in its surface.

 

_ She grinned and leaned down, quickly carving into the wooden leg of the bench. _

 

_ When she finished, she stepped back to let them admire her work. _

 

_ There in the aging wood was their mark on this spot, just like all of those who had visited it before them. _

 

_ BB & CG _

 

_ She had even etched a little heart beneath it. _

 

_ Bellamy chuckled and pulled her in close, his arm wrapped around her shoulder as he kissed her forehead. _

 

She crouched down now, her hands drifting up to the wood of the leg of the bench, her fingers tracing along the carving that was still there, the heart now had a little star next to it and she smiled as she traced over its deep carving.

 

Sighing, she stood and looked over her shoulder at the shore, her eyes drifting once more to its waves.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**2.5 Years Ago**

 

“Oh God, I’m gonna be sick” She moaned, her head falling back against the seat she was occupying, trying her hardest not to think about the crowd of people outside the door.

 

“No, you’re not. Stop being dramatic.” Wells’ drawl came from his seat on the opposite side of the room where he sat cross legged, reading a magazine.

 

She sat up, her heated stare finding her friend with practiced ease.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, excuse me for being nervous about my very first nationally-televised interview. And in Times Square, no less!”

 

She hated being back in New York. She had complained about it nonstop to Wells whenever she thought he was listening.

 

Outwardly, she was angry that she was in such close proximity to her mother. She hadn’t heard from Marcus in almost 5 months. He had stopped returning her emails and she knew her mother had something to do with it.

 

Inwardly, she was falling to pieces being back in the same state as Bellamy. It wasn’t like she was even going to  _ see  _ him, but her heart recognized his close proximity and cried at her refusal to seek him out.

 

“Yeah, yeah, mother is nearby, crazy. So terrible.” He mumbled.

 

She continued to glare at her so-called friend, hating that he knew her well enough to know that she was masking her real reason for her discomfort at being home.

 

“You’re the one who said that she asked about me at the Christmas party.” She pointed out.

 

Wells was only with her at her interview because he was on Christmas break from University. 

 

He was a good friend - The best.

 

He tried to be at every major event in her career, refusing to let her face it alone.

 

“Well, she knows that I’m the only person you stay in touch with. Maybe she cares enough to make sure you’re doing okay.”

 

She rolled her eyes and scoffed.

 

“One: Of course I’m doing okay. My album is number one on the Billboard charts AND iTunes. Two: If she  _ actually _ cared, she would ask for my fucking number and say so. Instead, she remains stubborn and refuses to admit she was  _ wrong. _ ”

 

Wells shrugged at her assessment, obviously not bothered since he knew she was completely misdirecting her stress for Bellamy onto the subject of her mother.

 

Her phone buzzed on the side table and she picked it up immediately, her eyes drinking in the words on the screen.

 

**Raven** _Sitting here waiting for your interview. You’re gonna be GREAT, Griffin!_

 

She smiled at the message, feeling comforted by her friend’s support.

 

**Clarke** _ Any minute now! _

 

At that moment, a head poked into the room.

 

“Ms. Griffin, are you ready?”

 

“Yeah, as I’ll ever be, at least.”

 

The guy didn’t seem amused at all, only exiting from whence he came without comment.

 

“Real friendly here, these people.” Wells remarked, an eyebrow raised at the man who left. “Who was that?” He asked, nodding toward the phone in her hand.

 

“Raven.” She answered brightly. “She’s watching the show.”

 

Wells cleared his throat and straightened in his seat, his hand smoothing down his tie.

 

“She is? Well, that’s nice of her.”

 

This time, Clarke raised an eyebrow at her friend’s obvious interest.

 

“Yeah, it is.” She said skeptically.

 

Her phone buzzed again.

 

**Raven** _ I’m coming to your concert in a few months btw! The one in Virginia! Since apparently that’s the closest you’ll be to NYC. Why aren’t you stopping here on your tour btw? _

 

She sighed, wondering how best to spin this to avoid the actual truth.

 

**Clarke** _No time, I’m afraid. Didn’t work out._

 

She should’ve known better than think Raven would believe that.

 

**Raven** _ So we’re still in the denial phase? Cool, cool. You know he’s going to find out soon,right? I mean he doesn’t really have an internet presence and his radio stays on bluegrass, but he  _ **_does_ ** _ own a television and you’re blowing up like a building in a Will Smith movie. _

 

Clarke bit down on her bottom lip, considering her friend’s thoughts. She knew it was inevitable. Her star power was rising more quickly than even Roan had planned, and there was no way Bellamy wouldn’t find out sooner or later.

 

And then if Raven started going to her concerts?

 

**Clarke** _ Yeah, I know. _

 

**Raven** _ So can I share, then? _

 

Was now the time?

 

Was this how she healed that wound and built a bridge? Reaching out through Raven and saying thank you for his encouragement?

 

**Clarke** _ If he asks, you may share. _

 

Sure, it wasn’t reaching out, but it was a compromise.

 

Now, if Bellamy  **really** wanted to reach out to her, Raven had permission to give him a way.

 

She smiled at the thought as someone else came in to lead her into the Good Morning America studio, her purple dress blowing lightly as she passed by the fan sitting next to the door.

 

Maybe she’d hear from him soon.

 

The thought gave her hope as she sat down with the hosts.

 

But that hope would diminish over time, when she still didn’t hear from him.

  
  


* * *

  
  


**Present**

 

She grumbled as she pulled her car into the parking lot at Raven’s apartment complex.

 

Both of their cars were parked and she knew that as soon as she walked into the door, Raven and Wells would bombard her with questions.

 

She felt tired even thinking about it.

 

Even still, she fished her bag from the passenger seat and made her way up the stairs to Raven’s second floor apartment, taking her keys and unlocking the door.

 

She tried to enter quietly.

 

Maybe if they didn’t hear her come in, she could make it into the guest room without having to face the inquisition.

 

But as soon as she turned around, she was met with the stares of her two best friends in the world, sitting side by side on the couch and obviously waiting for her to come home.

 

Wells’ hand was along the back of the couch, gripping Raven’s shoulder, the two of them comfortable as they watched something on the television.

 

“Now?” She asked, her voice belaying her tiredness.

 

“Now.” Raven says, reaching forward and grabbing the remote from the coffee table, turning off whatever Netflix show they had been watching.

 

Clarke sighed and sat down in the armchair on the opposite side of the couch, looking at the two of them sheepishly.

 

“Okay, shoot.” She said, tiredly.

 

“You’re avoiding us. You’re avoiding him. This shit’s gotta stop. This is an intervention, Griffin.”

 

She snorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

“Listen, I didn’t even  _ have _ to come down here.” Clarke reasoned. “I could’ve stayed in my ridiculously expensive hotel room and avoided the Hamptons all together. I’m obviously not avoiding.”

 

Wells spoke up then.

 

“You’re only here because Bellamy wasn’t supposed to be at that party. And then when he actually  _ did  _ show up, you disappeared, coming back to Raven’s to sleep and then disappearing before either of us even woke up.”

 

She chewed thoughtfully on the inside of her cheek, looking for room to argue against her obvious avoidance.

 

“Nope. Don’t try it. We also know that Bellamy went outside just after you left, likely leading to a conversation in the parking lot. Especially considering that when he came back, he disappeared into the back room and didn’t come out the rest of the night.”

 

_ He didn’t? Why? _

 

She mentally admonished her eagerness for any information regarding Bellamy.

 

She ran her tongue along the front of her teeth, staring her friends down and meeting their unaffected gazes head on.

 

“Fine. I talked to Bellamy. And? Obviously nothing has changed. I came all the way here to  _ maybe  _ see him and he doesn’t even think about me anymore. I was right. I loved him with everything I had and he doesn’t even remember it.”

 

She could feel the tears rapidly building as she released all of her feelings into the air between them. The hurt over the fact that she had been right all along - Bellamy hadn’t cared at all. What else could he have meant?

 

She had allowed herself to build up hope when she saw the frame, thinking that maybe  _ just maybe  _ she had been wrong, that he really had loved her and maybe even missed her the way she missed him.

 

Raven’s brows furrowed as she listened to Clarke’s rant.

 

“Pause.” She spoke. “What  _ exactly _ did he say? What did  _ you _ say?”

 

She wiped away some of the tears from the corners of her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself.

 

“He listened to my song. He listened to me pour my heart on that stage and then told me ‘He was there too and that wasn’t how he remembered it.’” She was full out crying now, her hands gripping the backs of her arms protectively. “And when I asked him what he meant by that he asked ‘did it even matter?’”

 

Raven’s eyes suddenly looked knowingly at her friend.

 

“And what did you say?” She asked carefully, obviously trying to rush to conclusions.

 

“I told him ‘I guess not’ since I didn’t actually  _ want  _ to hear him tell me that I was a silly 18 year old girl who fell in love and it wasn’t  _ his _ fault that I fell so hard.”

 

Raven swore, leaning back against the couch cushions and Wells sent a look her way, his hand falling to the top of her thigh, apparently holding her back from saying something she’d regret.

 

“Clarke.” She sat up on the couch, her hands clenched around her knees. “I’m going to say this once and I don’t want you to be offended.”

 

Clarke looked at her friend, confused at what she meant.

 

“You’re an  _ idiot. _

 

Clarke’s eyes widened comically at the statement and she sputtered, trying to come up with something to say in return.

 

“Well, to be fair, you’re  _ both _ idiots. It’s been years and for fuck’s sake, I’m tired of watching this clusterfuck of the two of you being stubborn assholes who  _ refuse  _ to admit that you miss one another.”

 

Clarke shook her head in confusion.

 

“I-What?”

 

Raven leaned forward, holding her stare.

 

“Clarke. Bellamy doesn’t remember things the way you described in your song because you basically called him a cruel asshole who broke your heart and left you alone. Not that he doesn’t remember the  _ good  _ things in your song and how much you loved one another because, believe me, he remembers that. Stubborn man can’t move past it, much like  _ you. _ ”

 

Clarke floundered, trying to figure out what was happening, the information Raven giving her far too much for her to process all at once.

 

“He didn’t  _ mean _ to break your heart, Clarke. And he definitely didn’t leave you alone. You’re both just  _ stupid _ and won’t  _ talk  _ to each other and I’m  _ tired. _ You’re my  _ best friends _ and I’ve spent  _ years  _ trying to get the two of you to do something about this mess by yourselves, but since you’re both apparently incapable - Intervention, it is.”

 

She was slowly digesting Raven’s words, working up a response.

 

“Raven.” She whispered. “What on  _ Earth _ are you talking about?”

 

Raven looked over at Wells who nodded once in affirmation, squeezing her thigh once more.

 

“What I’m talking about is this - When you left, you  _ broke _ him. Bellamy shattered into thousands of tiny pieces and he hasn’t been able to put himself back together since.”

 

Her heart stopped inside her chest, the well of hope overflowing into her bloodstream and setting her on fire before she could stop herself.

 

“But-” She was stammering, tears falling unbidden now. “But he never even- He never even  _ tried- _ ”

 

She was crying, sobs wrecking her chest, her breath hitching, interrupting her statement.

 

“He  _ did  _ try, Clarke. He  _ did _ .” Raven implored, willing her friend to listen.

 

“How?  _ When? _ ” Clarke whimpered, wanting to believe it, but not daring to give credence to its validity.

 

“It’s not my story.” Raven admitted. “ _ That _ is on him. But I’m through waiting for one of the two of you to get over yourselves and just  _ speak _ , damn it.”

 

Clarke’s mind was racing, her thoughts drifting to various moments throughout time, wondering how she’d missed it - Whatever it was she’d missed.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


**2 Years Ago**

 

Wells’ SnapChat came through and she tapped to open it, smiling at the picture of him and Raven standing on the beach, the sun shining brilliantly in the background.

 

She’d pushed the two of them to reconnect when Raven came to her concert in Virginia two months ago, giving her backstage passes and conveniently leaving the two of them alone in the lounge area.

 

Two months later, and now the two of them were texting and FaceTiming nonstop. 

 

Wells had decided to head to the Hamptons at the beginning of summer vacation. He claimed he was staying at his parents’ house but Clarke failed to mention to him that she saw on Google that his dad was going to be in New Jersey at the time.

 

She chuckled at the thought of Wells sleeping in Raven’s tiny, two bedroom apartment.

 

They were the real thing, she knew. The two of them would make, without a doubt.

 

He’d tried to talk her into coming with him, but she turned him down. 

 

Her tour was still going on, after all, and there weren’t a lot of days between dates. Not to mention, she was about to head overseas for the international leg.

 

She looked at the picture one more time, noticing the bar in the background and she felt herself stop breathing momentarily, wondering if Wells was with Bellamy at that very moment.

 

_ Stop. _

 

She had gotten good at it by now - Stopping her thoughts in their track and refusing to give herself room to think about Bellamy.

 

But when she looked at Wells’ picture, it was harder than ever to push him from her mind.

 

She’d given Raven permission to give Bellamy her number  _ months _ ago and she hadn’t heard from him.

 

_ You also said she could only give it to him if he  _ **_asked_ ** _ for it. _

 

So he wasn’t interested then.

 

He had to know that she and Raven were still in contact.

 

Not to mention, Wells was her  _ best friend. _

 

Raven would casually drop his name on occasion, obviously trying to tease her into talking about it, but she never took the bait.

 

If he had really love her, he would want her number, wouldn’t he?

 

But then, he  _ hadn’t _ really loved her.

 

Not really.

 

He’s never said it, after all.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


**Present**

 

“So what you’re saying is that he was equally affected and he  _ still  _ never reached out? Didn’t want to talk to me about it?”

 

Raven sighed, looking down at her hands that were still clenching tightly around her kneecaps, holding herself back from releasing her full frustration.

 

“Okay. This is my last piece and then that’s it. I won’t interfere anymore.”

 

She reached out to a notebook sitting on her coffee table, pulling a pen from the little dish sitting beside it and started to write something down.

 

Clarke willed herself not to be nosey and look before she was finished, using the quiet moment to wipe her tears once more now that she’d stopped crying.

 

“Here.” Raven said, bending over and handing her the piece of paper.

 

She looked down to see that her friend had written down an address.

 

Confused, she looked back up at where Raven was fidgeting nervously on the couch.

 

“What is this?” Clarke asked, her voice hoarse from crying.

 

Raven looked at Wells guiltily, clearing her throat.

 

“It’s um- It’s the address to Bellamy’s new place.”

 

Wells eyes shot open, he turned to face his girlfriend on the couch, his posture rigid.

 

“Raven, no. He-”

 

“Stop.” She said, her voice firm. “This is what it’s going to take, alright? Either the two of them keep at this forever, making themselves and  _ all of us _ miserable, or she goes to the house and this ends today. You know it will.”

 

Wells face was conflicted, like he couldn’t make up his mind and Clarke spoke up, unable to contain her curiosity.

 

“What is it? I’m confused? I thought you said he missed me? Why wouldn’t he want to see me? Or for me to know where he lived?”

 

Wells shook his head, facing Clarke and waving his hands slightly back and forth.

 

“No, no, Clarke, that’s not it, it’s-”

 

He stopped talking, his eyes cutting to Raven again who just shrugged her shoulders, not offering any support.

 

Wells sighed.

 

“Fine, you know what, do it. Go. Raven’s right. We’re ready for this to end and this is the only way it happens. The two of you need to come to blows. He’s there now. I know he is.”

 

Clarke’s eyebrows shot up at that.

 

“You do?” She asked in disbelief.

 

Wells’ face blushed somewhat and he coughed.

 

“Um. Yeah. So, maybe, Bellamy and I have been friends for um. What? Maybe two years now?” He spoke quietly, almost like he was trying to hide what he was saying.

 

“You WHAT?!” Clarke squealed.

 

Wells and Bellamy?  _ Friends _ ? Since when?

 

“Yeah, yeah, we’re friends, move past that. Go see him, Clarke. He’s home. He’ll be happy to see you, I promise.”

 

Clarke shook her head, her mouth still hanging open at the revelation that her very best friend had been in contact with her former love for the past  _ two years  _ and hadn’t even  _ mentioned _ it to her.

 

She felt the paper between her fingers like it was the answer to all of life’s questions.

 

If Raven was right, then she was owed a story. An explanation.

 

And maybe he was owed one as well.

 

And maybe, just maybe, the little piece of paper  _ did  _ hold the answer to all of her life’s questions.

 

There was only one way to find out, she supposed.

 

She pulled her phone from her pocket and put the address into her Maps app and noticed that it was only 12 minutes away, next to the coast.

 

It was now or never.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


**6 Months Ago**

 

“Earth to Clarke.” Roan’s voice pulled her from her revere, her eyes watching the clouds as they shifted and moved in the sky outside the window of her apartment.

 

That was one thing that California had that New York did not.

 

Clouds and clear blue skies.

 

“Yeah?” She asked, distracted, until he cleared his throat and she finally gave him her full attention.

 

Roan sighed, running his palms against the top of his head, smoothing out his ponytail.

 

“The tour, Clarke. We’ve got to finalize the dates and locations. Do you have any last minute changes or requests?”

 

Her eyes fell to the page on the table in front of her. The cool glass top of the dining table in her apartment was much too cold and sterile for her tastes, but the apartment had come furnished and she didn’t really like shopping.

 

The list of dates and locations all blended together and she nodded absently until her eyes fell on the day in June.

 

**June 23 - ????**

 

“What’s that?” She commented, pointing at the date with question marks.

 

Roan looked over at what she was pointing to and nodded.

 

“That one is undecided as of yet. That’s why I’m here, we’ve got to decide on where you want to go.”

 

She looked at the date before - Chicago - and the date after - Virginia, and she knew the obvious choice for any other touring artist.

 

Did she dare?

 

She hadn’t been back since her interview on Good Morning America.

 

What if he came to her concert?

 

Did she want him to?

 

_ Yes. _ The still small voice inside of her whispered.

 

She wanted to cry, realizing that even now, after all this time without any word from him, she still  _ missed him. _

 

There wasn’t any sugar coating it.

 

“What about New York?” She asked, her question spoken before she could even think too much about it.

 

“I’m sorry,  _ what? _ ” Roan’s voice was incredulous and when she looked up at him, his face was just as suspicious. “Wasn’t that your  _ one ridiculous request _ when this whole thing started? That you not have to go to New York?”

 

She bit down on her bottom lip, thinking about that long and hard before she spoke again.

 

“Yeah, but-” She hesitated only a second. “But maybe it’s time I go home.”

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**Present**

 

The wood in his hands was gradually smoothing out as he ran it through the planer, the rough splinters breaking off and flying into the air.

 

The sound of the machine drowned out almost all thought as he concentrated on the board.

 

Almost all of them.

  
  


_ He watched as she placed the guitar in the back of the car, handling it with the greatest care, and he wanted to cry at the familiarity of it all. To know that under all the pop-influence,  _ **_his_ ** _ Clarke was still there. _

 

_ His Princess. _

 

_ “I remember it too.” He whispered so quietly, he wasn’t sure she would hear it until he watched her straighten and turn around to face him. _

 

_ She was still  _ **_so_ ** _ beautiful. Just as beautiful as he remembered, even without all the make-up and hair product he was used to seeing on her now - A face behind the glass. _

 

_ “I was there too.” He continued. “But I don’t remember it the way you do, Clarke.” _

 

_ Her eyebrows furrowed and she narrowed her eyes at him, and he braced himself for the inevitable. _

 

_ “Oh? And how do you remember it?” _

 

_ He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. He couldn’t handle this. Not now, not after all this time without seeing her. He couldn’t lay it all out there without knowing that she  _ **_wanted_ ** _ to hear it.  _

 

_ That she would  _ **_listen_ ** _ to him. _

 

_ “Does it matter?” He asked, willing her to say  _ **_yes_ ** _ , that it did matter, that she wanted to know his side of things. _

 

_ Because he wanted to know hers. _

 

_ Because what she’d sung in her song didn’t align with  _ **_anything_ ** _ he remembered about the way they ended.  _

 

_ And he thought about it all the time. _

 

_ “I guess not.” She whispered.  _

 

_ It was like a knife to the chest and he nodded slightly, his eyes drinking her in one last time. _

 

_ “I should go.” He mumbled and then turned, walking back to the bar, his shoulders stiff,. _

 

_ That was it. No more.  _

 

_ He had to move on. _

 

He tried not to think about that moment, but the longer he stayed out here under the overcast sky, slaving away at dining table that no one would ever sit at, the  _ more _ he thought about it.

 

The sounds of the waves at the back of the house were still going when he turned the machine off, the noise calming him in a way he was used to.

 

He carried the wood to the side yard where the mostly finished table sat, eyeing the size and length of the board to the place left on the tabletop that was still unfinished.

 

The sudden and unexpected sound of tires on gravel caused him to pause.

 

The sound of a car door slamming had him placing the board on top of the table and looking up to where the driveway was at the front of the house.

 

He had a visitor.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> I love you.
> 
>  
> 
> Remember that.
> 
>  
> 
> So, not sure if you noticed, but this chapter kind of acted as a Part 1 of 2. Next week's update will be the Part 2 and, dare I say, the payoff that you've all been patiently waiting for.
> 
> In the meantime, what are you thoughts?! Theories?! What about Bellamy's side of things?! ABBY'S (Do we care?)??
> 
> Let me know in the comments.
> 
> And then, like I said, come yell at me on twitter about how I'm a terrible, horrible, no good writer who just left you on the world's cruelest cliffhanger.
> 
> Just remember I love you.
> 
> And find me @MallidayWrites.
> 
> Until next Sunday..
> 
> -Mally


	9. These Are The Words I Held Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew.
> 
> This chapter is a DOOOOOZIE.
> 
> Also, it earns that "Notebook-Inspired" tag here.
> 
> Hope you're ready for this.
> 
> I know we're all on an OMG BELIZA ARE MARRIED high, so this, my friends-
> 
>  
> 
> Is my wedding gift to you all.
> 
> Enjoy.
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**These Are The Words I Held Back**

 

**"The Scientist" by Coldplay**

 

****

  
  


 

Confused, he made his way around the house, searching for the car in question.

 

When he rounded to the front, he noticed right away that it wasn’t anyone he knew. It was a very expensive car, all black and sleek, and it looked extremely out of place in front of his house, parked behind his beaten-up old Jeep.

 

Walking up to the front of the vehicle, he paused when he noticed there wasn’t anyone in it.

 

He looked around, turning to face his house, and immediately stilled, his breath leaving him in a whoosh as he was faced with someone he never thought he’d see again.

 

“Hello Bellamy.” She greeted, her voice tired and maybe even.. Old. Much older than he remembered from the last time he saw her all those years ago, standing outside of their apartment building, venom spewing from her words.

 

He swallowed before answering, forcing himself to remain calm. At least until he knew why she was there.

 

“Hello Abby.”

 

She  _ looked _ older too. Her hair had gray in it now and it was actually down around her shoulders, pulled back away from her face, a stark contrast to the sharp bun she used to keep it in.

 

“I-” She started, but paused slightly. “I hope it’s okay that I’m here. I asked in town where you were living now.” She turned and studied the house.

 

He felt very protective all of a sudden as her eyes swept over the structure, his fists tightening anxiously.

 

“You have a very lovely home.” She said softly, turning back to him once more.

 

It was honestly the last thing he ever expected her to say, but he also didn’t expect to ever have her feedback on the house so then again, he had never really had an expectation of her opinion in the first place.

 

“Thanks.” He said gruffly, trying to keep the petty anger out of his tone.

 

It had been years since he’d seen the woman, thankfully. 

 

Years since he’d seen  _ her _ .

 

Until last night, that was.

 

Abby looked so uncomfortable that Bellamy wanted to laugh, but it wasn’t funny at all, honestly.

 

_ What was she doing here? _

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

For a second time, Bellamy paused in surprise. Except this time, he couldn’t contain his reaction, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline, he eyes widening slightly, and his mouth opening somewhat.

 

Abby shook her head, stepping down the two steps of the porch to the sandy walkway at the bottom.

 

“I mean.” She sighed and laughed dryly. “This isn’t going how I wanted it to at  _ all. _ ” She mumbled so quietly he almost didn’t catch what she said.

 

“I’m…  _ sorry? _ ” He said, unsure.

 

She chuckled mirthlessly.

 

“Don’t be, it’s just.” She closed her eyes, exhaling. “I came here because it’s time I stop being a coward.”

 

Bellamy stood stock still, unsure of where she was going with the conversation and afraid that this was all some part of a bigger elaborate joke.

 

“I’ve… I’ve been trying to fix myself, you see.” He watched her hesitate, twisting her hands together nervously. “When Clarke left, I was furious. At  _ her. _ I raged for  _ months _ at her. How dare she leave? How dare she not  _ need _ me?”

 

She chuckled again, this time with a wry smile.

 

“Then again, when had she ever needed me?” Her eyes found his. “I know you won’t believe it, but… Clarke is so much like me.”

 

Bellamy’s eyes narrowed and he wanted to defend Clarke, even though she’d took his heart and stepped on it. 

 

They were nothing alike.

 

Abby shook her head, likely seeing him respond.

 

“No, I mean the  _ real me. _ The me before… before I became something unrecognizable.”

 

Bellamy stopped, unsure of what she was referring to.

 

“I wasn’t always the way I used to be Bellamy, back when we knew one another. I was a lot like Clarke before I-” She swallowed again. “Before I became a monster.”

 

He was having trouble staying silent at this point, but he could see that she had planned this explanation and she obviously needed him to hear it.

 

“I have something for you.” She said suddenly.

 

She walked back up the porch steps, grabbing something out of his sight off the wooden plank floor before coming back to his eyeline. It was… a stack of paper?

 

“I’m sorry.” She said, her voice low, and sighed. “Yes, I said it again. Here.”

 

She came forward then, holding the stack out for him.

 

When she was close enough to touch, he took the stack from her and looked down.

 

He gasped realizing what they were.

 

“You-”

 

Abby nodded quickly.

 

“I did.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**3.5 Years Earlier**

  
  


He swore, practically throwing his phone back into the center console.

 

He’d been calling her for days with no response. 

 

He’d even been to the apartment a few times but no one was ever home, as far as he could tell.

 

When the one week mark rolled around and he still hadn’t heard from her, he decided to up and drive to Princeton. Maybe she had gone back to school early from Christmas break.

 

He was pulling up to the campus now, the streets and parking deserted thanks to students being home for break.

 

She hadn’t answered this time either, but if she wasn’t home, then where else would she be?

 

He found a parking spot close to her building and threw it into gear, opening the door and breaking out into a run towards her dorm.

 

Now that he was there, he couldn’t wait to get to her, to see her face again. To apologize for what he’d said. 

 

The front door was locked with the key card entrance but he had one, an extra student ID that she’d had made.

 

He scanned it, entering like a mad man, making his way quickly toward her room.

 

_ Room 502 _

 

Jogging, he came to a halt in front of the correct door and knocked quickly a few times in succession.

 

He waited.

 

No one answered.

 

He knocked again, holding his breath, before caving and calling out.

 

“Clarke! Clarke, Princess, please come to the door. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, please let me in.”

 

“Can I help you?”

 

He startled, turning toward the voice that interrupted his pre-thought-out apology.

 

It was a girl he didn’t recognize, but she seemed a little older than Clarke.

 

“Hey, uh- I’m Clarke’s boyfriend. Is she in?”

 

The girl raised an eyebrow.

 

“Wouldn’t you know where she was if you’re her boyfriend?”

 

He sighed, running a frustrated hand through his curls.

 

“We had a fight.” 

 

The girl dawned a look of acknowledgement, understanding coloring her features.

 

“Got ya. Well, I hate to tell you, but she’s not here.”

 

He swore, slapping a hand against the door frame and pushing off.

 

“Okay. That’s fine. I’ll come back when the semester starts.”

 

He started to walk away but the girl spoke again.

 

“No, you don’t get it.” He stopped and slowly turned to face her. “She’s not  _ here. _ As in - She’s not enrolled anymore. She’s gone.”

 

The breath caught in his chest at her words, his body realizing what she was saying before his brain.

 

“What do you mean she- She’s  _ gone? _ ”

 

The girl nodded shrugging a shoulder.

 

“She came in about a couple of days ago and cleared out. Grabbed a duffle full of stuff and said someone would be back for the rest. Said she wouldn’t be coming back.”

 

He was breathing shallowly now.

 

_ She’d been here? Just a few days ago?  _

 

He should’ve fucking camped out  _ here  _ from the get-go.

 

“I see.” He said, his voice suspiciously calm. “Thanks for letting me know.”

 

He did turn and walk away then, the girl looking sadly after him.

  
  
  
\----  
  
  
  


**3 Years Earlier**

  
  


Six months. 

 

That was how long it had been since he seen her. Held her in his arms. Watched her smile light up her face. 

 

Just breathed her in.

 

When her number stopped working, he probably should’ve given up. She obviously didn’t want to talk to him anymore.

 

And yet he couldn’t just  _ let go. _

 

She was it for him. He knew that now.

 

So he wrote.

 

It was stupid, he knew. An old-fashioned concept that people just didn’t practice anymore, writing letters.

 

But how else was he supposed to talk to her?

 

She got a new number and she was never home when he tried to go by.

 

He did entertain the thought that they might have moved, but when he walked up the stoop to the call list,  _ Griffin _ was still typed neatly by the number of the Penthouse apartment.

 

So he would spend hours writing letters to her, starting with ones of apology. Eventually, they grew into explanations. Why he was the way he was and said the things he did. And then they became confessions. Everything he felt, why he loved her, what he dreamed for them.

 

How they would grow old together.

 

How he would do anything for her.

 

If she would only let him know that she wanted it.

 

Which is how it had been six months. He’d written a letter a day for six months at this point and to mark the six month threshold, he decided he would deliver this letter in person.

 

He didn’t expect to actually get to see her but he could at least drop it in their mail slot out front.

 

When he arrived in the city, he exhaled deeply looking around at the sad, gray buildings and longed for the warmth and comfort of the beach where he lived.

 

That feeling only grew worse as he pulled up in front of her apartment building, the gold accents of the structure showcasing the wealth of those who resided inside of it.

 

He pushed open his door and stepped down onto the sidewalk, jogging up to the mail slot.

 

He sighed, holding the letter in his hands, folding it over and over, reading the name on the outside.

 

Before he could change his mind, he pushed it into the slot and moved to leave.

 

“You’re wasting your time, you know.”

 

The voice sent ice through his veins, haunting memories of that night in December rushing to the forefront of his mind.

 

He turned to face her venomous stare where she was walking up to the building from the other side.

 

“I think that’s for her to decide.” He responded, his voice deep.

 

He watched her chuckle, her obvious amusement at his hurt like a knife to the chest.

 

“Isn’t it obvious? She  _ has _ decided. Why do you think she hasn’t written you back?” Abby spewed.

 

_ Don’t let her get to you, Bellamy. She’s lying. She has to be lying. _

 

She tsked, her hand flying to her mouth in a gesture of pity.

 

“Oh, sweetie. You didn’t honestly think she had spent six months reading your letters and was still considering coming back to you?” She looked at him. “You did?”

 

He’d considered it, of course. That she wasn’t responding because she didn’t read them. But for her to actually read them? And still choose not to respond?

 

She wouldn’t do that.

 

_ Would she? _

 

Abby stepped closer, her bony hand clenching the handle of her briefcase harshly.

 

“There’s a  _ reason _ she isn’t responding, Bellamy, and it’s because she’s  _ moved on. _ She read the first few, sure, but once she realized you were going to write  _ everyday,  _ she stopped. She changed her number. And why do you think she’s never home when you come by? She is home, of course.  _ She just doesn’t want to see you. _ ”

 

Heat rushed behind his cheeks and up to his eyes, tears building, but he blinked quickly, willing them to go away.

 

He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

 

“Clarke’s not like that.” He said, his voice sounding more sure than he actually felt. “Let me see her. Let  _ her  _ say that to me.”

 

Abby’s face hardened, her pity being replaced by her usual frostiness.

 

“Absolutely not. I won’t force her to talk to you when she obviously doesn't want to.” She stepped even closer. “You can keep writing, Bellamy. But you’re wasting your time. She doesn’t think about you  _ at all. _ ”

 

Inside, he was dying, his heart crumbling and falling to pieces, settling in the pits of his stomach.

 

He needed to get away from her.

 

Without a word, he turned, heading back to his car, thrusting himself inside and slamming the door.

 

He didn’t speak, didn’t do anything, until he was back on the highway, heading out of the city.

 

And then he cried.

 

He cried until there was nothing left to fall.

 

And he didn’t write another letter.

 

 

* * *

  
  
  
  


**Present**

  
  


They weren’t open.

 

Any of them.

 

The crinkled rough edges of the old paper were still closed tight, the seals unbroken.

Clarke’s name scribbled in his shaky, sad handwriting on the front.

 

“What-? I thought you said-” He asked, his voice suddenly rough with unshed tears, remembering the heartbreak he had felt.

 

Abby didn’t respond so he looked up and immediately he felt on guard, looking at her nervous facial expression.

 

“Bellamy.” She said softly. “She didn’t read  _ any  _ of them.”

 

He inhaled sharply, realizing what she was saying, his eyes drifting back to the letters before returning to her face, searching for the truth.

 

“She- She never read them?”

 

Abby looked away toward the ocean where it was crashing on the shore behind the house.

 

“I haven’t spoken to my daughter in over three years.” She whispered.

 

The air rushed from his body, his chest rising and falling quickly, panic settling in.

 

“So- So when you said?-”

 

“I lied, Bellamy.” Abby said quietly, her eyes finding his again, sadness etched in her expression. “I lied and I’m  _ sorry. _ I was  _ so  _ angry with her. With you. With the whole damned situation. She’d left me, abandoned me and our plan and just decided to go off on her own. So I cut off her phone, changed the locks, trying to control the situation - To force her to apologize to  _ me. _ When really-” She paused, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes. “When really it was my doing the whole time. That  _ I _ was the one who needed to apologize.”

 

She quickly wiped away the two tears that had fallen, crossing her hands nervously over her chest.

 

“But I didn’t know that then.” She continued. “And that day when I saw you there,  _ hand-delivering _ yet  _ another _ letter, I took it out on you. My anger, my frustration - My  _ jealousy. _ And I lied. I wanted you to give up. I wanted to take  _ something _ away from her, the way she took something from  _ me. _ ” She started crying then, a sob breaking forth. “And I’m  _ sorry, _ Bellamy.  _ Oh God. _ I thought I could do this without crying.” She took a moment to collect herself.

 

Bellamy looked at her, wanting to feel sorry for her, but instead, all he felt was blind  _ rage. _

 

So many years.

 

He had wasted  _ so many years. _

 

 

* * *

  
  
  
  


**2.5 Years Earlier**

  
  


He needed a new bar rag, he realized when he tried to wipe up something off the bartop but it didn’t disappear.

 

The loud sound of the bar’s entrance being opened too quickly, slamming back against the side of the building, caused him to turn and glare at the person entering.

 

“Take it easy.” He yelled at what turned out to be Raven who was stepping inside with a smirk.

 

“Yeah, yeah. Got it. Give me the remote.”

 

His brow furrowed.

 

“The remote?” He asked his face contorting in confusion.

 

“Yeah, you know, that thing that controls the  _ television? _ Where’s it at?”

 

The television was new. He and Miller had been slowly upgrading the place over the past few months, trying to bring the bar into the current century, considering it would be theirs someday.

 

He dug around in the basket underneath the bartop for the remote that controlled the tv behind the bar and threw it to Raven who sat down on top of a barstool.

 

She immediately changed the channel to a morning show.

 

“Really? You come to my bar before opening to watch morning television?”

 

Raven rolled her eyes.

 

“Good Morning America isn’t just  _ morning television, _ Bellamy. It’s quality AM television content.”

 

This time, Bellamy rolled his eyes, ignoring her and reaching to throw the rag in the laundry bin before moving toward the drawer of clean ones.

 

“Whatever. I don’t care.”

 

“You might.” She said cheekily.

 

He walked back to the bar, new rag in tow, and gave her a curious look.

 

“Why? Something good happening today?”

 

“You could say that.” Raven mumbled, reaching into her pocketbook for her phone.

 

She typed out something with a smile and Bellamy shrugged and went back to cleaning the bar.

 

After a beat, her phone buzzed and she picked it up, smiling at the screen again.

 

“Who’s that?” Bellamy asked with a nod at her phone. “New girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

 

Raven bit down on her bottom lip shyly and his suspicion grew.

 

“Nah. Just a friend.” She quickly type something in return before setting the phone back on the counter.

 

When her phone buzzed again, this time her face dropped and she looked decidedly more upset than she had before.

 

Bellamy shook his head, refusing to intervene again, taking from her reaction that it wasn’t any of his business.

 

After a minute of silence on her part while she typed away to whoever she was talking to, he had the whole bar wiped down.

 

“Hey Bellamy-” She started to speak but by the time he looked up, her head had snapped up to look at the screen, a grin on her face as she reached for the remote control and turned the television up full volume.

 

“ _ Jesus, _ Raven. Turn it down-”

 

He stopped talking.

 

He stopped breathing.

 

It was Clarke.

 

“I’m sitting here with new artist, Clarke Griffin, who’s freshman album has quickly climbed the charts and is currently sitting at number one.” The woman on screen spoke, turning her body to Clarke instead of the camera. “So Clarke, tell us, how does it feel?”

 

She answered.

 

He knew she did. He watched her mouth move and yet he couldn’t tell you anything she said because he was so busy looking at her.

 

His heart  _ ached _ at the sight of her, there on the other side of his screen, so close but so very far.

 

_ But wait. _

 

“She-” He stopped, his head spinning with realization. “She did it.”

 

His voice sounded so hollow, so broken, and he was powerless to stop it.

 

“She did.” Raven responded.

 

He turned, finding his friend’s eyes that were weary, waiting for his reaction.

 

When he looked back at the TV, Clarke was smiling. She looked so happy.

 

He wanted to be upset. He did.

 

That she was there, happy, and he was here, living on a day by day basis, struggling to find the energy to care about  _ anything. _

 

Until recently, he hadn’t even had anything to focus his energy on.

 

He wanted to be upset that she had pursued her career, obviously calling the agent from the club, but hadn’t even wanted to tell him.

 

_ She just doesn’t want to see you _ .

 

Abby’s voice was an ever-present nuisance these days, reminding him of his shortcomings. As he slaved away at floorboards and door casings, her voice was there to tell him he was wasting his time.

 

And still, he didn’t stop.

 

But seeing her there, seeing what she’d accomplished, he didn’t feel angry at all.

 

He was happy.

 

For the first time in months, he felt happy. 

 

For her.

 

_ That’s why she left Princeton. _

 

Maybe Abby had come around.

 

“She did it, Bell. You told her she could and she did.”

 

He closed his eyes at the onslaught of emotions that brought up.

 

“I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

 

Raven sighed.

 

“Come on, Bellamy, of course you did. She wouldn’t even have Roan’s number if you hadn’t taken her to that club in the city. You’re the one who gave her the confidence.”

 

His brain registered then that Raven seemed to know a lot about Clarke’s situation, until it clicked.

 

“That’s who you were talking to.” He realized out loud, staring at her, willing her to tell him he was wrong.

 

Instead, she nodded.

 

“It is.”

 

He couldn’t help but chuckle at himself, self-deprecatingly. After all this time, Raven had her number. The number she had changed to get away from him, and yet, Raven had the new one.

 

Apparently she  _ did _ want to see Raven.

 

“Well.” He started wiping at the clean bar again. “I’m happy for her.”

 

Raven paused, chewing on her lip again.

 

“Don’t you want to talk to her?”

 

He stopped, his hand pausing on the wood.

 

“Why would I want to talk to someone who doesn’t want to see me?”

 

Raven practically growled.

 

“Has it ever even occurred to you that maybe Abby was  _ lying? _ She does tend to do that, right? She-”

 

“Stop it, Raven.”

 

His hand was shaking where it was resting and suddenly, Raven’s hand was on his, comforting him.

 

“Hey, I’m sorry. Okay? I’m sorry.”

 

He inhaled deeply, nodding, before returning to his busy work.

 

At that moment, someone else entered the bar, a clipboard in hand.

 

“You Bellamy Blake?” The man asked.

 

Bellamy nodded.

 

“Yeah, that’s me.”

 

The guy with the clipboard stepped forward.

 

“I’ve got that load of siding you requested coming this way tomorrow. If you’ll sign here, I’ll make sure it’s delivered to the address you requested.”

 

Bellamy reached out to sign the order, nodding at the man who left just as quickly as he came.

 

He could feel Raven’s eyes on the side of his face but he refused to acknowledge it.

 

“I’m not going to force you to do anything Bellamy.” She said finally, pushing up off her bar, her hands pressed into the wood of the bartop. “But based on what you’re doing, you haven’t moved on the way you want everyone to think you have.”

 

His head popped up, looking at her then.

 

“Yeah.” She nodded, confirming. “I know what you’re doing and I know  _ why  _ you’re doing it. But don’t worry.” She walked closer to him on her way out the bar. “I won’t say anything.” She whispered.

 

And then she was gone.

  
  
\----  
  
  
  


**2 Years Earlier**

  
  


The bar was in full swing that night, people crowding around trying to get their drink orders filled.

 

Ever since he and Miller had started renovating the place, more and more people were coming around, hearing good things about the beachfront bar.

 

He was happy with that, of course, as it was a good way to distract from his stupid brain.

 

“I’ll have a Jameson on the rocks.” A voice ordered to his left and he nodded, reaching down to grab a glass before picking up the bottle from the shelf behind him.

 

When he reached up with a napkin to place the drink on the bar, he finally looked up only to find himself looking into the eyes of a ghost.

 

“Hey Bellamy.”

 

He paused, wondering what was happening.

 

“Wells.”

 

Wells nodded, lifting his drink in salute before taking a sip.

 

When he sat the glass back down on the bar, he realized Bellamy was still staring at him and he laughed.

 

“Honestly, I’m not here to bother you.” Wells said, his voice humored. “I’m just waiting on Raven to get here.”

 

Bellamy’s eyebrows furrowed.

 

“Raven?”

 

Wells nodded, taking another sip and swallowing.

 

“Yeah, we’re uh - Dating? Kind of? I’m trying not to put too much pressure on a title just yet.”

 

Bellamy shook his head in confusion.

 

“Wait. You and Raven? How didn’t I know about this?”

 

Wells chuckled.

 

“She’s private, that one. We reconnected at Clarke’s concert in Virginia a few months back.”

 

Bellamy paused, his eyes darting to the door on instinct.

 

_ Is she?- _

 

“She’s not with me.”

 

His eyes flitted back to Wells who was smiling sadly.

 

“I wasn’t-” Bellamy started.

 

“Yeah, man. Yeah you were.” Wells chuckled again. “You’re both just so-”

 

He stopped, sighing, rubbing his temples with his fingertips.

 

“You know what? Not my place.”

 

Bellamy swallowed and nodded.

 

“Got it.” Ballemy hesitated before asking. “But she’s- She’s okay?”

 

Wells’ eyes softened.

 

“Want to ask her yourself?”

 

Bellamy’s eyes shuttered and he stepped back instinctively.

 

_ Why do you even care? She doesn’t want to see you. _

 

“I’m hereeee!” Raven’s voice drifted over the noise as she plopped down on the stool next to Wells, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek.

 

Wells grinned, turning toward her.

 

“Glad you made it.”

 

“Yeah, it was a real rough-house out there.” She joked, jerking her thumb over her shoulder.

 

Wells laughed before looking back at Bellamy.

 

“I meant to tell you-” Wells started. “I like the decor.”

 

He nodded toward a spot on the wall behind Bellamy where he knew the picture of Clarke was hanging in a hand-made frame.

 

He loved that picture, even if everytime he looked at it, it made him realize what an idiot he was for still holding on to someone who didn’t miss him at all.

 

“Yeah.” He smiled a small smile. “It’s a real crowd-pleaser around here.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**Present**

  
  


_ Maybe this thing was a masterpiece till you tore it all up, running scared. _

 

He closed his eyes, the words to Clarke’s song floating in his mind, and suddenly, he realized that her song was  _ true. _

 

To  _ Clarke, _ it was  _ true. _

 

Which meant she had no idea.

 

“Bellamy, I’m so,  _ so sorry. _ And I know I don’t owe your forgiveness. And I understand if you never give it to me, but I needed to  _ tell  _ you. I needed you to know that- That this whole thing is  _ my _ fault.” She dug into her pocket then, retrieving a piece of paper before she passed it to him. “Take it.”

 

He did, retrieving the small piece of paper from her hand and looking down at it.

 

It was a phone number.

 

“It’s Clarke’s.” She said, her voice sad. “I’ve had it for  _ years _ , but I’ve never used it. Couldn’t bring myself to. I don’t deserve her forgiveness either. I don’t know that I’ll  _ ever _ find the courage to use it.” She exhaled shakily. “But you should.”

 

His eyes snapped up to hers, narrowed in disbelief.

 

“Be better than me, Bellamy. Don’t let  _ my  _ anger,  _ my mistakes  _ keep you from doing what you want.”

 

She looked at him for a few seconds, her expression shuttered before she nodded once and started to move past him, heading towards her car.

 

He heard the door open before he spoke.

 

“Abby.” The door didn’t close so he knew she was still listening. “She deserves the truth. And she deserves it from  _ you. _ ”

 

He never turned around, couldn’t look at her anymore.

 

The door shut and he listened as the gravel crunched underneath her tires when she left.

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


**6 Months Earlier**

  
  


The crowd at the bar was the biggest he’d ever seen, the celebration in full swing.

 

There was a banner that said “Congratulations” strung through the rafters in the ceiling and he felt only slightly buzzed due to the drinks Raven kept pushing his way.

 

Wells was there too, on December break. He and Raven were gonna get married, he knew it. They were inseparable, even after all that time together.

 

It made his heart long for something he couldn’t put a name to. 

 

But he could put a face to it.

 

One of her songs had started to play on Pandora earlier and Miller quickly moved to change it in spite of the groans of distaste in the crowd.

 

The bar patrons loved her. It didn’t matter that her music was much more pop sounding than it had been when she was here, they revered Clarke.

 

She got her start there, after all.

 

But Miller changed the song, nonetheless, declaring that there would be no reasons for sadness that night because it was  _ his  _ night.  _ Their _ night.

 

He was finished.

 

Everything was finished.

 

He and Miller had graduated with their business degrees and they had officially taken over ownership of the bar from Miller’s dad.

 

The bar was done being upgraded.

 

And he was finished with his  _ project. _

 

And for the first time in three years, he had nothing to distract him from his thoughts and feelings. Nothing to cling to or think about.

 

A girl at the end of the bar was eyeing him hungrily but he ignored her completely.

 

Miller told him that if he wasn’t go to get his head out of his ass and  _ do something _ that he should at least try and move on.

 

But he just couldn’t.

 

He wasn’t ready.

 

He wasn’t sure he would ever be ready.

 

That piece of his heart that he had given to  _ her _ rioted, reminding him that he  _ had someone. _

 

_ A soulmate. _

 

His eyes flickered to the picture hanging on the wall, the frame he had crafted the same night he made the one he gave her. He’d meant for this picture to be a surprise for her, but she’d never gotten the opportunity to see it.

 

Suddenly, the familiar stirrings of a slow, sad song began on a guitar and his head snapped up to the stage.

 

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting.

 

Maybe her.

 

Maybe a ghost.

 

Instead it was just some girl who’d signed up to sing and ended up singing one of  _ her _ songs.

 

A Clarke Griffin original.

 

He wanted to be upset with himself for automatically recognizing her music, but what could he really expect? It wasn’t like he could delude  _ himself _ into believing he didn’t care.

 

That he hadn’t kept up with her career.

 

The girl started singing and while she wasn’t bad  _ at all,  _ all he could think about was how  _ wrong  _ it sounded.

 

“I’m going outside for a bit, yeah?” He asked Miller, gesturing to the open wall at the back of the bar.

 

Miller nodded at him sadly and he quickly escaped, eager to get away from his friend’s look of understanding.

 

He inhaled deeply as he stepped outside, the breeze off the ocean calming him in the way that only it could.

 

His feet felt sluggish as he walked through the sand toward the shoreline, collapsing there so that the cool water could just reach his feet.

 

The sun was starting to set now, the clear blue skies something that he loved about living out here, away from the city.

 

_ I wonder if she can see it this way too. Wherever she is. _

 

And it was at that moment, he knew he would never truly be free.

 

No matter what he did, where he went, what he was doing… He would always feel this way.

 

Wishing he were experiencing it with her.

 

A silent tear fell down his cheek then and he didn’t bother reaching up to wipe it away, simply let it fall as he considered the tragedy of his new revelation.

 

Because as much as he would always miss her, he knew that she would never feel the same way.

  
  
\----  
  
  


**One Week Earlier**

  
  


“You’re  _ selling  _ it?!” Raven yelled at him, her hands slamming down on the bartop.

 

“Nice to see you too, Raven.” He mumbled, ignoring her in favor of restocking the cooler underneath the bar.

 

“Don’t  _ even _ start that  _ shit _ with me, Bellamy Blake. I just ran into Luna in town. You’re  _ selling?!” _

 

He sighed, standing up and facing her fury head on.

 

“What am I supposed to do with it, Raven? I can’t keep it. It’s not good for my mental health and I don’t  _ need  _ it. Besides, I’ll make good money off of it. Finish paying off my school loans.”

 

She released a furious growl, her hands clenching into fists.

 

“That’s IT! I am SO tired of this, Bellamy!”

 

His eyes narrowed at that, his arms crossing over his chest defensively.

 

“ _ You’re _ tired of it, huh?”

 

Her eyes widened in frustration.

 

“YES! This is stupid! Both of you! SO. FUCKING. STUPID.”

 

He was taken aback, truly. Raven had never acted like this before and he wasn't’ quite sure how to react to it.

 

“What would you have me  _ do _ , Raven? Huh? There’s no fixing this! There are  _ no _ options!”

 

She laughed a single, sharp laugh of disbelief.

 

“ _ Of course there are, _ you idiot! You’ve had options for years, but instead, you’re just keen on putting yourself through misery, ignoring facts, and refusing to ask for the answers that  _ you need. _ ”

 

His hands flew to his hair then, trying to keep himself in check.

 

“SHE DOESN’T WANT TO SEE ME, RAVEN!” He roared unexpectedly, apparently not doing a good job of calming himself down.

 

Raven stopped, her mouth hanging open.

 

“She-” He paused, sighing. “She doesn’t want to see me. And I’ve accepted that.”

 

Raven swallowed, shaking her head back and forth, tears forming in her eyes.

 

“You know, I’ve spent years watching the two of you be miserable. Stubborn and miserable. Insisting that the other doesn’t care. Well, you know what, Bellamy? If neither of you cared, you wouldn’t  _ be miserable. _ ”

 

His mouth fell open slightly, unsure and guarded.

 

“She’s-”

 

“Yes. You heard me correctly. She is equally miserable.”

 

“But- But you’ve never said anything. And why on Earth would she be  _ miserable? _ She’s made it. She left town and she  _ made _ it. She-” He shook his head, his eyes closed. “She doesn’t need me. She never did.”

 

When Raven didn’t respond, he opened his eyes, finding hers to be solid and resolved, full of certainty.

 

“I’m fixing this.” She whispered. “I’m fixing this and I’m fixing it  _ now. _ ”

 

She jumped up, walking with speed to the door.

 

“Raven! Wait! Where are you-”

 

But she was gone.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


**Present**

  
  


Looking back now, Bellamy knew that Raven  _ knew. _

 

Hearing Abby’s story, it was  _ more _ than apparent that one of his very best friends had been holding this information from him for  _ years. _

 

And he couldn’t think of a single reason  _ why. _

 

She knew why he stayed away. Why he never reached out to Clarke.

 

So why hadn’t she just  _ told  _ him?

 

He felt a drop of rain fall against the skin of his cheek, cool and refreshing. Looking up into the sky, he could see dark clouds rolling in and he knew he would have to call it a day soon.

 

He had started working on the dining table once more once Abby left, and he was almost done. Lining up the wooden plank he created earlier, he nailed it into place and took a step back to admire his work.

 

It was beautiful.

 

It would look amazing in the dining room, he knew. 

 

Not like he would ever get to use it.

 

The sound of the gravel in his driveway caused him to sigh.

 

_ Again? _

 

Hadn’t she said her fill the first time?

 

He wiped his hands on his jeans and looked at the sky once more, the rain drops falling heavier now.

 

He definitely didn’t feel like listening to anymore of Abby’s confessions, much less in the rain.

 

Walking around the house, he made his way up the side steps of the wrap-around porch and walked to the opening at the front of the house next to the driveway, intending to wait for Abby to exit her vehicle.

 

Except when he reached the opening, the car in the driveway wasn’t the one he was expecting.

 

This one was also very nice, a Lexus logo attached to the grill in the front.

 

And though his heart recognized it the moment he saw it, speeding up in his chest, his brain didn’t catch up until he watched her step out of the driver’s side door.

 

Her blonde hair was down, flying in the hefty breeze coming off of the ocean in preparation for the rain storm. He could see now that the rain was starting to fall harder, even as his feet carried him down the steps of the porch and into the oncoming downpour.

 

He watched her as she stepped forward, her eyes widening in realization.

 

He wanted to speak, to explain. To say something that would make this seem less like what it was.

 

Less like he was still madly in love with her.

 

Instead, he just continued to watch as she moved away from her car, her eyes on the house, not on him. They moved over every detail, taking it in, obviously trying to figure out if she was seeing things.

 

When she finally landed on him, he didn’t know what to say, how to defend himself.

 

“Clarke.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Her eyes finally pulled away from the house and landed on the man in front of her.

 

The rain was coming heavier, lightning flashing in the sky, and still, she didn’t bother moving, too frozen at the sight of Bellamy and the revelation behind him.

 

“Bellamy.” She said, her voice almost drowned out by the sound of thunder in the distance, the rain starting to come down even faster.

 

She walked toward him, her mouth wavering, tears building in her eyes.

 

“You didn’t call.” She accused him. “You  _ knew _ Raven and I were still talking and you  _ didn’t call. _ ”

 

She watched as his eyes closed, and she continued before he could speak.

 

“You-” She gasped, holding back tears. “You disappeared after that night and I never heard from you again! You didn’t even go to my  _ parents _ . You didn’t care at all! You didn’t even  _ try! _ ”

 

He apparently found his voice then, raising it in volume to yell over the sound of the now pouring rain, their clothes clinging to them in the downpour.

 

“ _ I did try! _ I came by your apartment! I called, but your number changed! I wrote you a letter everyday for _ six months _ , Clarke!”

 

She started breathing more heavily, struggling to understand what he was saying.

 

Letters?

 

What letters?

 

_ What is he talking about? _

 

“You-You what?”

 

His face looked so pained she almost trembled.

 

“Your mother told me you didn’t want to see me! That you read my letters and that you weren’t interested. That you didn’t even want to  _ talk _ to me!”

 

She was crying now, blinking quickly, wiping at her face, the tears falling and the rain pouring into her eyes. 

 

Her eyes moved from the house and back to Bellamy, struggling to figure out what was happening.

 

When she’d pulled into the driveway, it hadn’t been what she was expecting.

 

She’d remembered the location, the closer she got to it, but so much had changed, she probably wouldn’t have recognized it had Raven not given her the address.

 

The house that once stood as a blemish on the shoreline now resembled that which she had once imagined. 

 

Yellow siding, white trim, wood floors… down to the rocking chairs off the back porch, overlooking the ocean.

 

He’d done it.

 

He built the house.

 

And he did it for  _ her. _

 

“I- I didn’t-” She sobbed. “I didn’t know!”

 

He walked forward suddenly, only a foot away from her and her breath left her in a rush.

 

“It doesn’t matter.” He said, his voice quieter, so quiet she struggled to hear him. “Because I never let go, Clarke.”

 

He had looked so broken before, but now he only looked  _ sure. _

 

“I still haven’t.” He declared.

 

Before she could comprehend what he was saying, she found herself suddenly swept up in his arms, his hands clinging to her back and his mouth pressed to hers.

 

She kissed him back desperately, trying and failing to draw from him everything she’d missed in the past three years.

 

Their teeth clashed and his tongue reached out, swallowing her moans and drawing the breath from her chest.

 

Suddenly, his hands slid down to the backs of her thighs, pulling them up off the ground and her legs around his waist.

 

He moved, carrying her up the steps toward the house and out of the rain, his desperate kisses never letting up as she struggled to keep up.

 

She’d never known what this was like before, the two of them having falled away from one another before she had gotten to experience this kind of desperation, and now that it was happening, she wanted to sob in relief.

 

It was everything she’d ever imagined and more.

 

She gasped as her back was suddenly pressed into the wall beside the front door, her head falling back against the yellow siding of the house.

 

“ _ Bellamy. _ ” She breathed out, his mouth moving to her jaw, nibbling on the skin there, nipping at the side of her neck gently with his teeth.

 

She could feel his hand beside her moving to open the door while his other hand kept her steady and soon enough, they were in the house, but only far enough that she was once again pressed up against the wall beside the front door, the air leaving her in a whoosh at the impact.

 

“ _ Oh God. _ ” She exhaled, her heart hammering, trying to catch up to what was happening.

 

“So many years.” He whispered into her neck, his hands moving from her right thigh and allowing one of her legs to stand on the floor while he moved to pull the string of her summer dress down her shoulder, exposing her left breast to the air-conditioned atmosphere of the house. “So many years  _ wasted. _ ” He growled.

 

Her nipple instantly reacted to the temperature and to his words, pebbling on her chest and begging for his attention. She gasped when his mouth immediately found it, teasing it with his teeth and then soothing it with his tongue.

 

“I never let go.” He murmured again, against her chest, his hand moving down to the skirt of her dress, drifting higher and higher. “I  _ couldn’t _ .” He said it like he was swearing, as if he were angry with himself for the truth.

 

When his fingers reached the edge of her panties she whimpered, her hips pushing into him.

 

“ _ Please,  _ Bellamy.”

 

“Shhh, Princess. I got you.”

 

She groaned, her head falling back at the sound of his voice, the way he cherished her.

 

In the way that only he could.

 

His fingers dipped underneath the edge of her underwear, immediately finding her wetness and swearing at the feel of her.

 

“Still so good.” He growled, his fingers spreading her arousal up and down the lips of her pussy before one entered her slowly, stretching her open.

 

She whimpered at the intrusion, having not felt anything like it in  _ years. _

 

_ Not since him. _

 

“ _ Jesus,  _ Princess.” He said into her breast, his mouth returning to give it attention, his left hand wrapping her thigh around his waist as he ground his erection into her stomach.

 

His finger pressed slowly in and out, easing her tension until he finally added one more and her arousal picked up tenfold.

 

“Bellamy.” She moaned. “Please, _ I need you. _ ”

 

“I know what you need, Princess.” He assured her, a third finger joining the first two, speeding up in an effort to bring her closer to her peak.

 

She ground against his thrusts, almost there.

 

“That’s it. Come on.” He whispered against her skin, leaving marks with his lips.

 

She gasped as her orgasm rushed through her, a rush of arousal coating his hand, even as he slowed down, allowing her to ride it out.

 

Her hand came up then, trailing down his chest to the bottom of his shirt, picking it up and trying to pull it up and over his head.

 

His fingers left her then, helping her lift it up and off his body.

 

She found his belt buckle, opening it quickly, and unzipping his jeans.

 

For the first time, she could see him, feel him in her hand as she pulled his dick out of his boxers, squeezing experimentally.

 

“Now. Bellamy.” She urged, her voice wrecked.

 

He nodded, reaching into the pocket of his jeans.

 

“No, please. I’m safe, I swear.” She was desperate to feel him, all of him, inside of her.

 

His forehead fell against hers and he nodded, she watched his adam’s apple as he swallowed.

 

“Me too.”

 

And then he was picking her up, both legs wrapped around him, and pressing her into the wall once more.

 

His right hand reached underneath her dress and she could feel him pressing her panties to the side, coating his dick in her arousal.

 

“ _ Bellamy. _ ” She pleaded.

 

“It’s okay.” He mumbled. “I’ll take care of you.” 

 

When he entered her, she couldn’t help but lose her breath, the feeling so intense. His dick stretched her open to his intrusion easily, in spite of her years of abstaining.

 

Years of waiting for  _ him. _

 

When he was finally all the way inside of her, she vaguely heard him shushing her, unaware that she had even been whimpering. Suddenly, his fingers were on her face, wiping away tears she hadn’t realized had fallen.

 

“Clarke-” He said, his voice broken, his eyes pleading with her.

 

She pushed against him, urging him to move, to give her what she’d been missing.

 

He nodded and suddenly, his hands were gripping her thighs tightly, so much so that she knew they would leave bruises the next morning.

 

He pulled away, his dick pressing against the innermost part of her and causing her to groan at the sensation, the friction quickly pushing her toward another orgasm.

 

His thrusts were fast and unforgiving then, pressing her more roughly into the wall as he made up for all their lost time, quickly throwing her off the cliff of arousal a second time, gasping into his neck.

 

“Good girl.” Her murmured softly, his thrust slowing only somewhat, allowing her sensitive pussy a moment of reprieve. “One more, Princess, come on.”

 

His thrusts continued, speeding up once more, the whimpers now leaving her mouth unfiltered, their sounds reverberating throughout the quiet house, the wet noises of their coupling an auditory reminder of her own pleasure.

 

When he changed his angle and reached a spot inside her she was unfamiliar with, she jumped slightly in his arms, jolted by the sensation.

 

“Bellamy, wait- Oh!” She groaned.

 

His left hand moved, pulling her other strap down, teasing her right nipple with the same attentions.

 

“You got it, just go with it. Let go.”

 

She felt like something was under her skin, crawling to get out, her pussy felt like it was on fire, tingling from her previous orgasms, but building up to  _ something, _ nonetheless.

 

“Oh- _ Oh. B-Bellamy. _ ” She whimpered through his thrusts, her voice stilted as she was pressed repeatedly into the wood behind her.

 

Suddenly, she fell, her mouth falling open into a silent scream, her opening spasming around him, the wet sounds of her pussy reaching an alarming level, the unmistakable feeling of her own arousal trailing out and down the back of her.

 

“ _ So good. _ ” He said lowly, his voice deep. “So good.”

 

She felt when he found his own release, his hips stilling, his dick inside of her, the feeling of his come filling her inside.

 

They grew still, both breathing heavily, his forehead pressed into her chest and her hands clenched tightly in his hair. His hands that had been gripping her thighs so harshly before, slowly loosened.

 

He pulled out and she winced slightly, as he slowly setting her to rights on her feet, and beginning to pull the straps of her dress up her body.

 

“We should talk.” He whispered, his voice low and cracked.

 

She nodded, but even as she felt their combined arousal drip down the insides of her thighs, talking was the last thing on her mind.

 

“Or..” 

 

Her hands stopped his where they were trying to fix her dress and slowly moved to the hem instead, pulling the material up and off her body, leaving her in her underwear.

 

She watched Bellamy’s gaze darken, his eyes taking in every inch of exposed skin like a man thirsting in the desert sun.

 

“We could talk in an hour.” She suggested. “And you could do to me everything you’ve ever imagined.” She stepped into his space, her palm resting on his chest. “Everything  _ I’ve _ ever imagined.”

 

Once his eyes returned to hers, his hands came up to wrap around her hand on his chest, his thumb tracing patterns on her skin.

 

“Why the hurry, Princess?” He asked, his hands falling to her hips, pulling her in closer and pressing himself against her once more.

 

She swallowed, her arousal in no way abated.

 

“Like you said,” She started. “So much wasted time. I want to make up for it.”

 

She felt him sigh against her, his fingers tracing down her cheek and pushing her hair behind her ear.

 

“We have plenty of time, Princess.” He said. “I’ve just got you back.”

 

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her lips, firm, but chaste.

 

“And I don’t plan to let you get away again.” He said softly, leaning his forehead against hers, sighing deeply.

 

She smiled, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly.

 

“Don’t worry, Bellamy.” Her eyes found his. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Eyes the foreshadowing*
> 
>  
> 
> O
> 
> M
> 
> G
> 
> AmIRight?
> 
>  
> 
> Well! There it is. Hope it was worth the wait and that you're not all terribly disappointed.
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments!!
> 
> What are your thoughts? Seriously!
> 
> Also, as usual, come yell at me on Twitter!
> 
> Side Notes:
> 
> The Biggest Moment and A Greater Pursuit have both been nominated for Best Consensual Smut Story for a 15,000+ word fit on BFWA After Dark on Tumblr!!!
> 
> Thank you all SO MUCH for being the amazing and supportive people you are.
> 
> I love you, truly.
> 
> Also, be on the look out for Malliday on Tumblr! I'm slowly learning and once I've gotten the hang of it, I'll let you know where to find me.
> 
> Until next Sunday....
> 
>  
> 
> -Mally


	10. Something Bout It Felt Like Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sunday!!!
> 
> Today's chapter is the next to last! This pic is winding down.
> 
> This chapter is a little shorter than usual as it reads like a Part 1 to the final chapter, teeing up for the final confrontation and our goodbye to these love birds.
> 
> Go listen to "Iris" by Goo Goo Dolls if you want a good cry while you read.
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**Something Bout It Felt Like Home**

 

**"Iris" by Goo Goo Dolls**

 

****

 

The sharp brightness of the morning light filtered in through the window, landing on her closed eyes, making her eyelids flutter open.

 

Strange.

 

Raven’s couch didn’t face the sun.

 

The cloudiness of her mind slowly dissipated and she inhaled sharply at the feeling of warm skin pressing into her back, a chest rising and falling in the rhythm of deep sleep.

 

_Bellamy._

 

She smiled sweetly, suddenly remembering the night before.

 

Confronting him outside his house in the rain.

 

The _house._

 

She wanted to cry even now, thinking of the years he spent working on the house, fixing it up, remembering everything she had told him and taking it to heart.

 

It had to mean something, right?

 

As much as she had promised him the night before that they would talk, the words had never come. Instead, her eyes rolled back as she remembered the way he had pressed up against her, making her his over and over.

 

First, there in the hallway, the second time on the living room couch. Then, they’d gone to the kitchen to eat, only for the need to arise again, that time on the kitchen counter.

 

Her favorite had been after they’d gone to sleep, waking up to his lips on the back of her neck in the middle of the night. His arms reaching in front of her to palm her breasts in his hands, pulling her back into his already hard dick.

 

It was almost like he hadn’t believed she was still there. She made sure to let him know that she wasn’t going anywhere, taking him in her mouth before moving on top of him, the two of them gasping in the quiet darkness of the bedroom.

 

It was everything she’d ever imagined it would be and more.

 

And she kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Something to happen that would pull them apart again, for good this time.

 

But it never came.

 

His warm breath was tickling the hair at the nape of her neck and his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close to him, the sheets smooth and cool against her naked skin.

 

She realized then that she could stay in this moment forever, with him. Her legs were woven together with his and at some point the sheet had fallen to their waists, exposing their torsos to the morning sun.

 

Looking down, she sighed happily, her fingers tracing the freckles on his arm, so dark compared to the pale white skin of her stomach.

 

A few minutes passed and she knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid going to the bathroom much longer, so she carefully moved out of his arms, trying her hardest not to wake him up.

 

Walking over to the dresser on the wall, she debated only a second before opening the first drawer, looking for a t-shirt.

 

Luckily, the first drawer provided her desires and she grabbed a soft blue t-shirt, unfolding it, and pulling it over her head.

 

Closing the drawer softly, she turned one last time to look at Bellamy.

 

He was still sleeping, his right arm reaching across the space she had occupied, hand flat against the sheet, fingers clenching around nothing.

 

Here in the morning light, he looked so young. Though it had only been just a few years, he looked different, a slight stubble growing over his sharp jaw, his hair somewhat longer, the curls falling across his forehead.

 

She bit down on her bottom lip.

 

Sometimes at night, before she came back, she would imagine this. Being with Bellamy, feeling him inside of her as she brought herself to completion.

 

Even as she tried dating, all she could bring herself to think of was how she would rather be here, with him, watching the waves and making love under the hot afternoon sun.

 

She sighed and moved to the door, her bladder screaming at that point, and made her way down the hallway.

 

They hadn’t really toured the house the night before. When they relocated to the bedroom, it had been a flurry of kisses and Bellamy carrying her, her legs wrapped around his waist before he threw her on the bed.

 

She tiptoed on the wood floors, heading toward the doors further down the hall from Bellamy’s room. The first appeared to be some sort of second bedroom so she kept going to the next, which proved to be the bathroom.

 

After she finished, she washed her hands, wiping them on the towel before opening the door to make her way back to Bellamy’s bedroom.

 

Only, she paused when she noticed the door across from the bathroom was open just slightly.

 

Curious, she moved with purpose to the cracked door and peeked inside, noticing it was some sort of study. Bookcases lined the far wall, some books were stuff sideways to fit in spite of the number of bookcases.

 

She pushed the door open further and walked slowly to the collection, her fingers tracing the titles on the spines.

 

Her mouth tilted into a small smile when she came across a few business textbooks, obviously from his school work.

 

Her eyes lifted to look at the wall beside her, a framed certificate was hanging next to the window.

 

She smiled widely.

 

He did it. He graduated.

 

_God, she’d missed so much._

 

They had so much to catch up on.

 

She started to turn, wanting to immediately go snuggle back into his arms and ask him all of her questions at last, but she found herself pausing once again.

 

On the opposite side of the room, a small desk was pushed up against the wall, and a variety of pictures and papers were pinned all over the back wall, surrounding the desk and stretching out to either side.

 

She inhaled sharply when she realized what it was.

 

Her feet padded against the hard floor softly, the boards creaking quietly underneath as she made her way to the collection of memories.

 

She lifted one hand to touch the nearest picture and realized, belatedly, that she was crying, a single tear falling down her right cheek.

 

_It was her._

 

Her hair was down and she was in one of her tour costumes, from her first tour, performing.

 

She looked around at the variety of pictures and newspaper clippings, print-outs from websites about her albums and gasped.

 

There she was at the Grammys, holding her first ever award.

 

And then another of her holding her first platinum record from Billboard.

 

A news story reporting on her sell-out second world tour - The one she was currently on.

 

_And New York was circled in green highlighter._

 

She was fully crying now, her eyes flitting back and forth across the wall, taking in all the mementos that he had saved.

 

Suddenly, the sound of a floorboard creaking behind her caused her to jump and turn, her face guilty - For what she wasn’t sure.

 

She felt like she was intruding in there, in what was obviously a personal space.

 

And yet there he stood, his hair still a mess, his brow furrowed as he looked from her to the wall behind her, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

 

“I-” She started to offer some sort of explanation.

 

But Bellamy moved then, crossing the room in even strides, reaching her in no time. His hands grabbing her around the waist and picked her up, depositing her on the desk behind her before they moved to grab her by the head and pull her in close, covering her mouth with his own.

 

She moaned deeply in the back of her throat, her hands clenching the skin of his shoulders, struggling to pull him in closer, wanting to be consumed by him in that moment.

 

He pulled away finally, breathing heavily, his mouth laying quick kisses to her cheeks and then down her jaw, his tongue laving at her clavicle as her head fell back against the wall, aiding her in her efforts to breathe.

 

“B-Bellamy.” She said, her voice breathy and uneven, her breathing stuttered.

 

He didn’t respond, instead his hands moved to the hem of his t-shirt that she was wearing, pushing it up her thighs and exposing her core to the morning light streaming in through the window.

 

She whimpered as his hand reached her folds, his fingers pressing in slightly, spreading her arousal with his fingertips.

 

“Shhh.” He murmured as he pressed one finger inside of her completely to the knuckle and she moaned, her throat raw and tired from sleep.

 

“Bellamy, I-” Her right hand left his shoulder and flew to the wall above her head, palm open to the room. “I didn’t know.” She whimpered.

 

“I know.” He whispered, adding another finger and curving them inside of her, a new wave of slickness coating his hand and dripping onto the desk as she reached her peak quickly, still sensitive from the night before.

 

“I would’ve” She swallowed, the tears flowing freely as her left hand moved then, cupping his face, bringing his attention her, his eyes boring into hers as she spoke. “I would’ve come home.” She whimpered, the crying picking up.

 

He moved in, kissing her sweetly, softly, his left hand buried in her hair, bringing her in closer as his right slowly withdrew from inside of her, leaving her feeling empty.

 

“Please, Bellamy. I’m sorry.” She said, opening her thighs further, inviting him to press up against her, her left foot pressing into his ass and pulling him in.

 

“Don’t be sorry, Princess. Never be sorry.” His voice was wrecked and she nodded as his hand pushed the hair out of her face and behind her ear. “I was waiting.” He continued. “I would’ve waited forever for you, you have to know that.”

 

She smiled through her tears, nodding at the promise in his words.

 

“I never want you to have to wait for me again.” She said, her voice stronger. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

He was breathing heavily, his forehead pressed against hers.

 

“There was never going to be anyone else for me. You were it. You were then, you are now.”

 

Her hands shaking, she reached down with her hands, pushing his briefs down his hips, freeing his dick to her touch.

 

He groaned, his forehead pressing against hers, his hands resting on either side of her hips as she pushed and pulled, urging him even closer with her heel on his ass.

 

“Now.” She breathed. “I need you. Please.”

 

Bellamy nodded, batting her hand away and replacing it with his own, guiding himself to her entrance and pushing inside.

 

They moaned together, his hands finding hers, interlacing their fingers and pressing them into the wall of photographs behind her as he filled her completely until she could feel him pressed flush against her pelvis.

 

“I dreamed of this.” He said, his voice low as he pulled out and thrust back in, the desk shaking underneath her. “Finding you again, showing you what you mean to me. Convincing you to stay.” He admitted as he buried his face into the side of her neck. “Showing you how good I could be to you, how good I could make you feel.”

 

She groaned, her fingers curling around his and pressing against the skin on the back of his hands. “I missed you so much.” She cried, moans escaping her now in her arousal that were beyond her control.

 

His thrusts sped up then and she moaned at the sensation, feeling his dick slide against her walls, filling her in a way she never could have imagined, even in her worst state of missing him.

 

He released her hands, pulling her against him by her hips to meet each of his thrusts.

 

“You gonna show me how much you missed me?” He asked, his lips finding hers. “Let me feel you, Princess.”

 

His hand pulled the shoulder of her t-shirt to the side so that he could bite lightly at the skin stretching from her shoulder to her neck, pressing wet kisses against her collarbone.

 

Her hands found his hair, burrowing in his curls and pulling.

 

“Come on.” He urged. “That’s it.” He cooed as he felt her walls start to clench around him and she screamed, the sound of it echoing off the walls of the room.

 

Bellamy swore, stilling slightly, thrusting lightly, allowing her to ride through her orgasm. Once she sagged against him, he picked up his pace once more and she whimpered at the sensitivity, but pressed him on nonetheless, her heels still digging into him.

 

“Almost there.” He whispered. “So good.” He rained kissed on the skin of her jaw as he stilled, his hips jerking one last time before finishing inside of her.

 

Their combined heavy breathing was the only sound in the house besides the sound of the air conditioning that had kicked on sometime in the middle of their tryst.

 

His eyes lifted to hers once more and he pushed the hair that had escaped back behind her ears. Leaning forward, he kissed below her right eye, ridding her of a tear that had gone unnoticed.

 

“I thought you left.” He said, his voice broken and rough. “When I woke up and you weren’t there-” He paused, his adam’s apple bobbing. “I thought you left.”

 

She shook her head.

 

“I had to use the bathroom.”

 

She watched as he raised an eyebrow looking around the room.

 

“I hate to tell you, Princess, but this isn’t the bathroom.”

 

Clarke huffed and hit him on the shoulder, wincing as he chose that moment to withdraw, their combined released following him and dripping down the insides of her thighs to the desk.

 

She watched him look down, his fingers finding her sore entrance and massaging, her eyes rolling back at the feeling.

 

“You okay?” He asked, his voice soft.

 

It was so _Bellamy_ , to ask that. He had found her snooping on his private space and still, he wondered about _her_ feelings.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She said, her voice still hoarse. “Just haven’t had anything that uh- Big before.”

 

His eyes rose to hers, a grin on his mouth.

 

“Careful, Princess. You’ll inflate my ego.”

 

She rolled her eyes.

 

“God, I hope not, I don’t think I can take much more.” She chuckled. “I’ll get used to it, eventually, don’t worry.”

 

He leaned in, kissing her soundly before pulling back to look at her again, his fingers stroking her jaw softly.

 

“Time to talk?” He asked, his voice quiet and uncertain.

 

She nodded.

 

“Yeah, let’s talk.”

  


\----

  


Once they’d cleaned up, they made their way to the living room. Clarke hadn’t really admired the inside of the house the night before, as she had been too intent on devesting Bellamy of all of his clothes and getting as up close and personal with his dick as possible.

 

Now, as she looked around, she couldn’t help but fall in love.

 

It was so bright and open, the front spaces all one large room, the sitting area open to the ocean at the back of the house, large, bi-folding glass doors that would push back to expose the large space to the waves of the ocean.

 

“The house-” She started, turning to look at Bellamy who was pouring coffee in the kitchen. “It’s really something, Bellamy. So beautiful.”

 

He watched her as he poured, shrugging one shoulder.

 

“I had to do something to occupy my time for three years.”

 

She sighed, moving to the large island where he stood and sitting on one of the bar stools on the other side.

 

“I saw the degree. I know you finished.”

 

He cleared his throat, a blush over-taking his features as he set the coffee pot back on it’s stand.

 

“I’m so _proud_ of you, Bellamy.” She said, her voice steady and filled with admiration.

 

He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck.

 

“Thanks. Not much compared to you though, huh? A Grammy, Clarke? That’s-” He smiled softly. “That’s amazing, Princess.”

 

She shook her head, standing and moving to stand in front of him, her hands falling to his waist.

 

“Don’t do that, Bellamy. Don’t belittle your accomplishments. You worked hard and you _graduated._ Octavia is in _college_ because of you and the bar looks _amazing._ ” She bit down on her bottom lip. “I’m just upset with myself for missing it all. I should’ve been there to watch you cross the stage, to see the bar as it came to life.”

 

Bellamy’s hand came up to her face, moving her eyes to his.

 

“You were there.” He whispered. “You may not have been there in person, but-” He swallowed. “You were there. With me, at least.”

 

She smiled.

 

“You were with me too.” She admitted softly.

 

He grinned then, leaning down to place a kiss against her forehead.

 

She cleared her throat, slowly moving to the couch in the sitting area.

 

“So. You kept up with me, huh?” She questioned, trying to make it sound casual.

 

She heard Bellamy snort as he made his way to join her.

 

“Of course I did. Did you really think I wouldn’t?”

 

She sighed.

 

“Well, I thought you didn’t want to have anything to do with me, so I guess I’m still coming to terms with the fact that we were both lied to and manipulated by my mother.”

 

He stiffened beside her and she looked up at him curiously.

 

“It’s uh- It’s your mother. She was here.”

 

Clarke sat up straight, her eyes wide and at attention.

 

“What do you mean she was _here?_ As in at your _house?_ When?”

 

Bellamy nodded, taking a sip of his coffee.

 

“Yesterday, actually. It was pretty strange. She showed up and then you showed up hours later.”

 

Clarke thought about that and considered the information.

 

“What did she want?” She asked quietly.

 

Bellamy sighed, leaning back into the cushions behind him.

 

“To apologize. And to return these.”

 

She watched as he reached over to lift the lid off the coffee table, retrieving a stack of paper inside and handing them to her.

 

Confusion etched her features as she studied the stack until suddenly she gasped.

 

“Are these-?”

 

Bellamy nodded, his hands clenching his sweatpants nervously on his thighs.

 

“Yeah. They’re the letters I wrote you. Apparently she kept them. Never opened them or anything, but she kept them.”

 

Clarke’s hands gingerly traced over the letters in her name, Bellamy’s handwriting neat and sure.

 

She wanted to cry again, honestly, but she had already cried so much, she didn’t know if she even had any tears left.

 

“Can I read them?” She asked instead.

 

Bellamy chuckled somewhat.

 

“Of course. They were for you. Or I can tell you what they say instead.” He suggested and she looked up and smiled.

 

“How about both?”

 

He laughed.

 

“Deal.”

 

Clarke sat the letters on the coffee table for later and looked around the room. It was then she noticed the same picture of her that had been hanging on the bar hanging on the wall in the far corner.

 

“You must like that one.” She said, nodding her head in its direction.

 

Bellamy’s arm fell on the back of the couch, his fingers tickling her shoulder.

 

“I do. It reminds me of the you when this all started.” He chuckled. “Not that I don’t love the spandex costumes, I do, _trust me_.”

 

She rolled her eyes, laying her head back against his arm and swiveling to look at him.

 

“That’s still me, you know.” She said. “That’s always me. I just-” She sighed. “I don’t get a lot of say so in those things just yet. Roan says maybe someday when I’m bankable.”

 

Bellamy’s eyebrows furrowed, his thumb rubbing light circles on the skin of her shoulder.

 

“Clarke. You’re already bankable. You’ve won awards. Your albums are all number one albums. You should get to do whatever the hell you want, considering the amount of money and publicity you’ve given those people.”

 

Her heart clenched in her chest at the heat behind his words. Everytime she had wanted to speak up about this to Roan, she’d imagined what Bellamy would say. She had known he would be an advocate for her voice.

 

It only made her wish for things that had long passed yet again.

 

_No_.

 

She couldn’t _change_ the past, but she could sure as hell make sure that she fixed all her fuck-ups in the future.

  


* * *

  
  


The next two days were nice. A long blur of her and Bellamy spending hours getting to know one another again and then spending the next hour doing everything _but_ talk.

 

She was worried about her tour.

 

She knew she would have to go back on the road again, but she didn’t want to leave this.

 

Leave Bellamy.

 

Would he go with her?

 

She wanted to ask him but she was scared. What if he couldn’t? Or didn’t want to?

 

She’d never had this problem before with touring because she didn’t really have anything holding her down. But Bellamy wasn’t holding her down, he was giving her life again.

 

A reason to stay.

 

“You know, I think you’ll find your fanbase will follow you anywhere you go.” Bellamy said one day as they were laying out on the beach, soaking in the rays of the summer sun.

 

Since he’d finished his degree, he hadn’t been working construction during the day anymore, not needing the extra income. So they spent their afternoons lounging around, being lazy, and smothering one another with kisses.

 

“You don’t see what I see.” He continued, looking up at the sky as she watched the side of his face. “They adore you. As they should.” He smirked looking over at her.

 

She grinned.

 

“And what about you?”

 

He smiled, leaning over, his right hand landing beside her head as his body caged her in on the ground.

 

“I think my adoration of you goes beyond theirs.” He murmured, his lips brushing against hers.

 

“You think?” She asked, quirking an eyebrow.

 

He then proceeded to show her how much he adored her.

 

Which brought her to the day before her New York concert.

 

She woke up in Bellamy’s bed again, surrounded by his warmth and his smell, burrowing into his chest as he smiled sleepily and crushed her into his skin.

 

The pinging of her phone alerted her to a text message and she groaned, her forehead falling onto his sternum.

 

“It’s just a text message, Princess.” His voice was amused, rough from sleep. “Probably Raven making sure I’m feeding you properly and that you’re getting enough water.”

 

She huffed, pushing him back, her palm against his chest.

 

“You act as if we’ve been having marathon sex for days or something.”

 

Bellamy chuckled as she moved up to grab her phone, his hand resting on his abdominals.

 

“Well, maybe I’m not as young as I once was, but-”

 

“What the _fuck?_ ” She whispered, staring at her phone in disbelief.

 

Bellamy was immediately at attention, jolting up in bed and scooting up behind her, his hand on her shoulder.

 

“Clarke, what is it? Is everything okay?”

 

She stared a beat longer.

 

“It’s-It’s my mother.” She said softly.

 

Bellamy sighed, resting his forehead against the bare skin of her shoulder blades.

 

“I figured she’d come to you eventually.”

 

Clarke snorted.

 

“Whatever. It’s one thing for her to apologize to you, but me? She _disowned_ me, Bellamy. Hasn’t even _tried_ to reach out in over three years.”

 

Bellamy pondered for a moment, his fingers tracing shapes on the skin of her lower back.

 

“What does it say?” His voice said, rumbling behind her.

 

“She wants to meet me for breakfast. She’s in town.” She turned slightly to look at Bellamy. “How does she even know I’m _here?_ ”

 

He shrugged.

 

“I don’t know. I didn’t tell her.”

 

Clarke sighed before tapping out a message and pressing send.

 

“Well?” Bellamy asked behind her.

 

“I guess I better get dressed.” She sighed, looking around for her clothes from days earlier.

  


\----

  


After a quick stop at Raven’s apartment (And one interrogation from her friends later), she was on her way into town.

 

Her mother had requested they meet at this tiny hole-in-the-wall cafe away from the hustle and bustle of the main part of town.

 

It was such an unusual selection for her mother, it was almost a shock to actually pull up in front of the building.

 

Was she trying to keep their meeting a secret or something?

 

The tingling of the bell above the door did little to ease her nerves as she walked inside. It was such a small place, you could see all the tables in the restaurant.

 

Clarke had gotten there twenty minutes early so she hadn’t really expected to see her mother, yet when she looked around the room, she was surprised to see her familiar face at a small table off to the side.

 

She didn’t notice Clarke at first, engrossed in the book on the table, and it allowed her a moment to really study her mother.

 

She looked so much older since the last time she saw her. Streaks of gray woven through her hair that had never been allowed to exist before, were now showcased in her long hair, free from it’s usual stern hairstyle.

 

Just the visual of her mother was a shock to the system.

 

She made her way around the maze of tables until she was standing next to her and she cleared her throat.

 

Abby’s eyes jumped from the pages to her daughter.

 

“Uh- Hey mom.” Clarke greeted awkwardly.

 

Abby hurriedly dog-eared the page of her book and put it in the bag hanging off her chair, standing to greet her daughter.

 

“Clarke! Sweetie, I’m sorry, I was early, so I thought-”

 

They both paused as Abby moved to hug her naturally before stalling and stepping back, swallowing.

 

“It’s okay.” Clarke said quietly, sitting down in the chair opposite Abby’s.

 

They sat silently for a moment, each unsure of what to say until the server showed up and took their order.

 

Afterwards, Clarke sat, staring at the table, her fingers picking away at the wood.

 

“Ms. Collins told me you were in town.” Abby admitted. “I’m not tracking you or anything.”

 

Clarke smiled slightly, knowing her mother was trying to put her at ease.

 

“And I uh, figured we could meet here away from attention. I’m sure you get noticed most places now.” She paused. “Um, congratulations on your new album, by the way.” Her mother started hesitantly. “I really like the track you wrote for PRIDE month.”

 

Clarke’s head jerked up, her eyes widening in disbelief.

 

“You-You listened to my album?”

 

She internally cringed, waiting for the snarky retort from her mother, but instead she watched the other woman’s shoulders rise and fall subtly before she answered.

 

“Yes. I’ve listened to all of your albums.” She admitted. “You’re so talented.” Her mother chuckled. “You get that from your father, of course.”

 

It was like existing in an alternate universe, Clarke decided, this conversation. She must be dreaming.

 

“Yeah.” She answered, her voice uncertain.

 

Abby was fidgeting nervously and it was making her unbearably uncomfortable.

 

“Mom.” She started, getting to the point. “Why are we here?”

 

Abby’s eyes snapped to hers before she answered, her eyes soft and unsure.

 

“I asked you here to- To apologize, Clarke.”

 

Clarke swallowed, letting her mother continue.

 

“And to tell you why. I know it doesn’t excuse what I did, nothing ever will. I know that more than anyone.” She paused. “Have you talked to Bellamy?”

 

Clarke nodded slightly.

 

“Some. Not about what you talked about though.” Clarke admitted.

 

Abby nodded.

 

“So you know about the letters?” Clarke confirmed and Abby sighed. “I was unspeakably cruel to the both of you.” Abby whispered. “I was so, _so_ angry with you for leaving.”

 

Clarke’s brows furrowed and she responded harshly.

 

“I thought you were here to apologize? I don’t regret leaving, mother. I did what I needed-”

 

Abby waved her hands.

 

“No, no, I know. That’s not what I meant, I-” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Clarke, I was angry with you because-” She looked at the table, refusing to look Clarke in the eye. “I was angry because you did what _I_ never could.”

 

Clarke’s head jerked back in response, confusion coloring her features.

 

“What are you talking about, mom?”

 

Abby looked up then, catching her daughter’s attention at long last.

 

“When I was 18, I fell in love.” Abby started, her voice cloudy, her eyes staring, but her consciousness lost in her memory. “I was _so_ in love. He was my soulmate.”

 

Clarke was confused as to where this was going. Abby never talked about her father.

 

“And he was _nothing_ that was expected of me.” Abby chuckled mirthlessly. “My parents forbid it immediately. He wasn’t _good enough_ and he never _would be._ ”

 

Clarke’s mind was reeling - Wait. Who was she talking about?

 

“They gave me two options. I could stay with him and leave the family. Or I could marry Jake and they would forgive my transgressions.”

 

Clarke’s blood turned to ice in her veins as she realized now what Abby was referring to. She had given Clarke the same options - Only Abby had obviously chosen differently.

 

“I was weak.” Abby whispered. “I let go of the only love I’d ever known for the acceptance of parents who never saw me as more than a pawn in their societal games.”

 

Clarke could feel tears welling in the corners of her eyes. Why had she never heard any of this before?

 

“I married a man I didn’t love.” She continued. “And I want to regret it, but the truth is- The truth is I can’t, Clarke. Because had I not married Jake, I would’ve never had you.”

 

The admission jolted Clarke’s long dead heart as it concerned her mother and she found herself suddenly wanting to console her, to pull her close and hold her.

 

“I was eventually able to find love again, with Marcus. And yet- At that point, I was so committed to the farce, to the _lies_ , that I still made the same mistakes they did. And then you left and I pushed you away because you were _better_ than me and _it hurt._ ” Abby said, her voice cracking through her tears. “But that’s because you’re a better person than I could ever hope to be, Clarke. You’re the only good thing I’ve ever done for this world.”

 

Abby suddenly reached out, grabbing one of Clarke’s hands and holding it tightly.

 

“I’m so sorry for what I did. For what it did to you, to Bellamy. I’ve spent _years_ trying to get help. To better myself so that one day, I could be worthy of your forgiveness.”

 

Clarke was so frozen, unsure of how to react, she could only continue to squeeze her mother’s hand.

 

“And you don’t have to.” Abby continued. “If you never forgave me, I would understand completely. I just-I just needed to apologize. For myself. I have to forgive myself if I’m ever going to do better. To be better.”

 

She didn’t speak again and Clarke only continued to stare, words trying to form in her mind.

 

“Mom.” She whispered. “Do you want to come to my show?”

 

Abby’s thin lips slowly rose in a small smile, tears streaming down her face.

 

“I would love to.”

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


Clarke was on a high.

 

That was the best way to describe it, honestly.

 

She never dreamed she would be in this place after all these years, reunited with Bellamy, on the road to mending things with her mother…

 

It was like the best dream.

 

She closed the door to her car with her hip, carrying two drinks as she walked around the side of the house to the back where she figured Bellamy would be lounging on the beach still.

 

Only, when she rounded the corner, Bellamy wasn’t alone.

 

There was a woman with him, long curly hair and a small smile on her face. Bellamy was speaking to her and she was nodding hurriedly before she pulled him into a hug, smiling as she pulled away.

 

The high platform her heart had been sitting on disappeared from underneath it, plummeting it into the deepest depths of her chest.

 

_Clarke. Don’t over-react. Don’t panic. It’s probably nothing._

 

But all she could see was the smile on his face as he looked down at the woman and she felt that smile deep in her stomach, like it was an acid pouring across her organs.

 

Her feet carried her back to her car where she quickly backed out to the road and made her way down the road in the direction she came from.

 

Leaving the drinks sitting on the porch railing in her wake.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UUUUGHHHHH
> 
> Come on, you knew I would have one final misunderstanding, right?
> 
> I mean, we gotta get to the epilogue somehow, people.
> 
> Any guesses on who the woman is?
> 
> If any ACTUALLY figures that out, I will give a metaphorical medal. I've dropped many, many hints in the story about who she is, so I'm anxious to see if any picks up on it.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed today's chapter!
> 
> Leave me a comment letting me know your thoughts and come yell at me @mallidaywrites on Tweet App.
> 
> Until next Sunday...
> 
>  
> 
> -Mally


	11. I Swear I'd Love You Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is, the beginning of the end.
> 
> The last full chapter.
> 
> The epilogue will post next Sunday! 
> 
> The song for this week is the one that inspired this whole fic: "Back to December" by Taylor Swift.
> 
> Give it a listen and meet me back here for some emotional upheaval.
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**I Swear I’d Love You Right**

**"Back to December" by Taylor Swift**

 

****

 

Her phone had rung countless times from its place in the cupholder of the center console. She hadn’t stopped to look and see who it was that was calling, she only wiped the ever-streaming tears from her eyes and kept going.

 

It was fine.

 

She was fine.

 

She’d needed to return to the city anyways seeing as her concert was the next day.

 

Her eyes stayed firmly glued to the ever disappearing lines on the road as she drove, in spite of her heart screaming at her, urging her to turn around and stop being a coward.

 

But then she’d remember the smile on Bellamy’s face and the silhouette of the other woman as they stood in front of the backdrop of the ocean.

 

She knew deep down that she was over-reacting, honestly. But she’d spent  _ days _ with Bellamy, the whole time holding her breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop on their happy bubble of peace.

 

And the second that shoe hit the floor, she’d turned around and fled without a second thought as to what she was actually witnessing.

 

Real life wasn’t that simple. It never was. It couldn’t be.

 

Was it even  _ possible  _ to  just come back to town, find out Bellamy had still been in love with her too all these years and the two of them just what? Grow old together? Get a happy ending?

 

_ Do I even deserve one? _

 

She’d spent so long trying to forget him and he’d spent  _ everyday _ remembering her, even if he’d never called.

 

She passed the sign welcoming her into the city, her heart slowly returning to its normal pace and her adrenaline waning.

 

But then the panic set in.

 

_ What had she done? _

 

Hadn’t she  _ just _ promised him she wouldn’t leave him again?

 

She pulled off on the side of the road, put the car in park, and started crying again, this time heavier than the last.

 

Her fingers were shaking as she reached for her phone.

 

Raven.

 

Wells.

 

All different versions of worry and panic, obviously each of them having been told by Bellamy that she hadn’t returned to the house.

 

And then there was Bellamy, himself.

 

**Bellamy** _ Hey, you coming home soon? I’m happy that the talk with your mother seems to be going well! _

 

 **Bellamy** _Are you okay? I’m seriously starting to worry now. Call me back, okay?_

 

**Bellamy** _ Clarke, where are you? I saw the cups on the porch - Did you bring those? Why did you leave? I’m so worried, Princess, PLEASE call me. _

 

 **Bellamy** _I don’t know what’s going on. I can’t fix whatever this unless you talk to me, Clarke. Please._

 

**Bellamy** _ Don’t do this, Princess. _

 

The missed calls were endless.

 

She needed to call him back, to talk to him and explain what was wrong.

 

She tapped the screen, moving to her contacts when suddenly her phone started ringing.

 

Roan’s name flashed across the screen and she sighed deeply before answering the incoming call.

 

“Hey” She said, her voice low and raw from all the crying she had been doing.

 

“Griffin. Any chance you can make it down tonight? We got a few things to talk about for tomorrow’s show. A couple changes.”

 

She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the seat.

 

“Yeah, um. I’m actually almost back.”

 

She heard the shuffling on the other end of the line still.

 

“Well, that’s good. Any reason why you came back early?”

 

She swallowed, her head tilting to rest against the cool glass of the driver’s side window.

 

“Nothing important.” She mumbled, the fingers of her right hand tapping against the skin of her thighs.

 

“Right.” Roan drawled, obviously unconvinced. “Well, listen, meet me in the conference room off the lobby when you get here and we’ll talk logistics.”

 

She sighed again, more shallow this time, resigned to continuing her drive into the city instead of turning around for the beach.

 

“Sounds good.”

 

She ended the call and threw her phone into the seat next to her.

 

She’d call him when she got to the hotel.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Clarke nodded at the valet as he came to take the keys from her and clenched her teeth together as she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket once more.

 

Deciding to bite the bullet, she pulled it out and looked down at the screen.

 

_ Octavia _

 

Her brow furrowed in confusion. Octavia? 

 

“Hello?” She answered uncertainly. 

 

“Don’t you  _ dare _ sound like that. You  _ know _ why I’m calling. Only, I can’t believe you actually answered, considering the fact that everyone else seems to believe you’ve fallen off the face of the Earth.”

 

She gulped down her denial because she knew that Octavia was right. 

 

Collapsing on the bench beside the revolving door entrance, she kept the phone pressed against her ear as she rested her forehead on her palm.

 

“I deserve that.” She said quietly, hearing Octavia snort audibly through the receiver.

 

“Yeah, you do. All of that plus some. What the fuck, Clarke? Bellamy is running all over town looking for you. He’s convinced that you’re dead in a ditch somewhere, but I know better.” She paused, sighing noisily. “You ran again.”

 

Clarke started crying once more, silent tears running down her cheeks as she admitted to herself that Octavia was right.

 

“I-I panicked.” She reasoned. “I got back to the house and he was there with some- some woman. He looked so happy and every worry I’ve had that he hasn’t really forgiven me for our time apart just kept flooding back. How could he possibly still love me, Octavia? All this time, he thought I ignored him! That I didn’t want to be with him. I- It’s not possible.”

 

She stopped, waiting for Octavia to respond and after a beat she did.

 

“Are you done yet?” She huffed and Octavia continued. “Clarke, there is nothing in this world I’m more sure of than my brother’s feelings for you. Nothing. I’ve watched him pine after you from afar for  _ years, _ fixing up that old house, waiting for you to come back to him. And if that’s not enough to convince you that he still loves you, I don’t know what _ is _ .”

 

“But, that woman.” Clarke interjected. “Why was he meeting with some woman while I was gone?”

 

“What woman?” Octavia asked. “What did she look like? Did you even  _ ask _ Bellamy? Talk to him about what you saw?”

 

The tears were still flowing freely and Clarke shook her head, speaking up when it occurred to her that Octavia couldn’t see her through the phone.

 

“No.” She whispered. “I- I was scared of his answer. She was so pretty and he was smiling so much, I just-” She swallowed. “I just left.”

 

Octavia cursed on the other end of the line, her frustration bleeding into her words.

 

“Clarke.” She began. “Did this woman happen to have long, curly hair? Brownish-Blondish looking?”

 

Clarke’s eyes narrowed as she remembered the woman Octavia was describing.

 

“Yes?”

 

Octavia chuckled through the line but her tone was tired and unamused.

 

“Clarke, that was Luna. As in, Bellamy’s realtor.”

 

Clarke’s eyebrows shot up and her gaze widened, her head snapping up to stare at the cars that moving quickly on the street in front of her.

 

“His  _ realtor? _ ” She asked, her voice high-pitched and surprised.

 

“Yes, you idiot. His  _ realtor. _ His very-much-not-interested-in-men realtor that Raven once dated?”

 

Her heart started racing as she considered Octavia’s explanation, and suddenly, flashes of the woman’s name flew threw Clarke’s mind, little moments she’d heard about her over the years.

 

“But, I don’t understand. Why does Bellamy need a realtor?” She murmured her voice wavering.

 

“Because, hopeless one, Bellamy was going to  _ sell _ the house. He didn’t want to hold onto it anymore without you living there with him. He literally built that house for  _ you _ \- A place for the two of you to grow old together in, and instead of just calling you and telling you like a normal person, the  _ equally _ hopeless idiot was going to  _ sell _ it and try and move on.” She chuckled. “And then you came back and the two of you were  _ happy  _ together.  _ Bellamy _ thought you were there  _ for good.  _ He was smiling because he was  _ happy with you. _ He met with Luna to tell her that he was taking the house off the market because  _ he wanted to live there with you. _ ”

 

Clarke was fully sobbing at that point, her heart whithered and shriveled in her chest, angry with her for fucking everything up so spectacularly  _ again. _

 

“Oh God.” She whimpered, knowing she had screwed up but unsure as to how to fix it.

 

“Yeah.” Octavia paused for a second, taking a breath. “So, how are you gonna fix this, Griffin? Cause I’m not watching my brother be a zombie for another three years until you get your shit together.”

 

Calming herself down and willing her heart rate to slow, Clarke wiped the tears from her face and sat up on the bench, taking a deep breath of the cool night air.

 

She thought about it, considering all of her options.

 

She could drive all the way back to the Hamptons right now and beg for forgiveness, plead her case and tell him she was sorry.

 

But that didn’t feel like enough.

 

Bellamy had spent years with feelings of inadequacy, thinking that he was in love with someone who didn’t love him back.

 

And now she’d left again, running away at the first sign of turmoil.

 

Somehow, going back to him and just _ saying _ what she wanted to say didn’t seem like an adequate way to express to him  _ just _ how much she loved him.

 

“Octavia.” She said, her voice quiet as she looked around at the people in the valet line, trying to keep her tone hushed. “I have an idea. But I need your help.”

 

Octavia laughed openly.

 

“Oh, absolutely. Whatever you need, I’m your girl. Who do I have to kill?”

 

Clarke rolled her eyes, standing from her place on the bench and moved through the revolving doors into the lobby, heading straight for the conference room where Roan was undoubtedly still waiting.

 

“No one. But never say never, I guess. I’ll text you the details.”

 

She said goodbye and ended the call, walking into the room where her tour organizers were gathered, watching their heads pop up to stare at her as she entered.

 

“Clarke.” Roan greeted, his head nodding in her direction. “So nice of you to join us. Ready to talk changes?”

 

She swallowed down her nerves and straightened her shoulders, never more sure of anything in her life.

 

“Yes, actually. I am. I have a few of my own.”

 

Roan’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline in muted surprise.

 

“Is that so?”

 

Clarke steeled her face, displaying her certainty and unwillingness to back down.

 

“Yepp. So we better get started.”

 

She pulled out a chair and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table in front of her, pulling from her soul all of the strength she had.

 

_ You should get to do whatever the hell you want. _

 

His voice echoed in her thoughts before she relayed her proposition.

 

“I want to do something a little different.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


The haziness of the warm air beneath the stage clung to her dress and made her skin stick to the material. It was disorienting and unpleasant, but unavoidable, she knew.

 

She kept thinking of Bellamy and wondering if he was listening. That had been the plan, after all. She would get the message out there and Octavia would make sure he heard it. 

 

She’d texted him the night before to let him know that she was okay and that she was in the city, prepping for her next show, and that she was sorry she left town without warning but that he didn’t need to worry.

 

He’d texted back in a panic, unsettled and definitely not consoled, so she called him for a short conversation, promising that everything was okay and that she would explain everything soon.

 

Once he’d calmed down, she’d hung up the phone and sent a text to Octavia, letting her know that ball was in her court.

 

She’d even left tickets for the both of them in Will Call, but when Octavia had texted, her response hadn’t been a positive one.

 

**Octavia** _ :( _

 

And that was that.

 

He was  _ that  _ angry with her. So angry, he wouldn’t even come to her concert, even with his sister.

 

She could only hope that Octavia would still find a way to get him to listen.

 

Which brought her to where she was now - Below stage, waiting to go on.

She considered, briefly, listening to that large part of her brain that urged her to go change into her usual outfit. It wasn’t too late, she could still start this show the way she had every other show on her tour.

 

The bright lights and dancers in spandex, the drama and intrigue of it all.

 

But even though Bellamy wasn’t there… She had to follow through.

 

This was it. This was a defining moment and if she backed down, it would be lost forever.

 

Her mind raced with the other moments that were so defining for them.

 

_ Riding bicycles on the boardwalk and listening to his teasing laughter chase her as she pedaled away from him. _

 

_ Rolling around in the sand on the beach, laying her head on his chest, feeling it rise beneath her cheek as he inhaled the salty ocean air. _

 

_ Coming home at last, witnessing his devotion to her in the small details he’d remembered - The work he’d put into the house - Their house. _

 

It was one thing to write about what was in the past and didn’t matter, but it was something else entirely to lay your heart out on the stage, where anyone could pick it up and crush it in their hand. 

 

To sing about memories that  _ meant  _ something.

 

And thinking back on those summer nights, the twinkling stars in a cloudless sky, the waves crashing into them as he took her breath away over and over… 

 

She knew that she didn’t mean  _ anyone _ when she thought of someone crushing her heart into dust.

 

She knew she was just thinking of  _ him. _

 

Thinking of their time together and how much it meant to her. 

 

If she did this, everyone else would know too, not just Bellamy.

 

But he was the only one that mattered.

 

And she wanted him to know that.

 

The week before on the radio show,  she’d opened up an old wound that she had absolutely no hope in closing up once again - A wound she didn’t  _ want _ to close up, but rather, one she wanted to  _ heal. _

 

Octavia was right, and she’d made a mistake, and now she was going to fix it.

 

Her hands smoothed themselves over the hard surface of her guitar, her fingers picking at the stickers that were starting to peel in their old age.

 

This was the only way she knew  _ how  _ to fix it, and it always had been. Maybe she had lost sight of that over the years in her efforts to please her manager and everyone else around her, but this had been where it all started.

 

Just her and her music, laying it all out there and hoping for some relief.

 

The sudden roar of the crowd on the other side of the stage filtered back into her consciousness. It was loud and caused her head to spin, her anxiety threatening to overwhelm her completely as she inhaled deep, cleansing breaths, remembering why she was doing this.

 

“You don’t have to, you know.”

 

Wells’ voice came from behind her, answering her unspoken thought. 

 

He’d shown up the night before, two hours into her tour-planning meeting, out of breath as he rushed into the room. 

 

Of course he’d known where she would go.

 

So he’d gone after her, her best friend, on  _ her side _ no matter what. Even when she was wrong.

 

Now, she turned to face him, and his expression was understanding. He was trying to help, give her a shoulder of support should she choose to back out, here at the last minute before the concert.

 

“I know.” She nodded and exhaled shakily, fidgeting with the strap of her guitar that hung around her neck. “But I want to.”

 

He nodded once, accepting her response and moving closer. Close enough that he was reassuring, but far enough away that she still had room to breathe.

 

“Well… They’re all waiting on you, rockstar.” He said dryly.

 

She couldn’t help but chuckle a little under her breath, turning to look up toward where the noise was coming once more.

 

He was right. They were waiting. And she definitely didn’t want to be in the tabloids tomorrow as some diva pop star who made her loyal fans wait for an exaggerated amount of time.

 

That had happened before once when she’d been late to the show because her tour costume had ripped and they’d had to repair it at the last minute.

 

“Yeah, I guess they are.” She sighed and paused to consider her next question, the silence between them lingering, until finally, she found her voice in a whisper. “Do you think he’ll even hear it?”

 

Turning around to look back at him over her shoulder, she watched Wells’ face morph into a small smile, watching his chest rise and fall with relief at what he thought was an easy question with an easy answer.

 

“I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

 

She looked at him in confusion. 

 

He knew what Octavia had sent her, and yet he still seemed so sure Bellamy would get the message. 

 

He shrugged, “Well, I mean... he’s never really been that far away has he?”

 

Flashes again as she thought back to the room where he kept all of his memories of her, the letters she had never read… That spark of hope she’d felt when she saw their house for the first time.

 

That maybe, just maybe, he still loved her, even now.

 

Even if he wasn’t  _ there _ \- She had to believe he was listening.

 

“Yeah, I guess he hasn't.”

 

Suddenly, the noise in the crowd changed and they started chanting her name, loud and demanding, but in good spirits.

 

“It’s now or never, Clarke. You can’t keep them waiting.”

 

Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back toward the ceiling. 

 

_ Deep breaths. In. Out. You’ve got this. _

 

She opened her eyes and looked back to Wells.

 

“Okay.”

 

Turning around, she walked toward the platform, stopping on the X’s that designated where she should stand.

 

She felt the whir of the metal gears beneath her platform start to turn and gulped down one final breath before looking up at her friend one last time.

 

Wells smiled at her in encouragement, giving her a thumbs up, and suddenly, the whirring grew louder as the platform started to ascend toward the opening in the stage.

 

Right before she appeared above stage, Wells’ smile broadened and he waved goodbye, winking in her direction.

 

She chuckled at his encouragement, the sound echoing through the speakers as her microphone had now been turned on. She didn’t have long to contemplate Wells’ inexplicable giddiness, however, as she heard the cheers of the crowd change from chants into shrieks of excitement. Her head emerged from the opening in the stage, her silhouette projecting onto the white background behind her as smoke billowed up from the machines on the floor.

 

The lights were just as bright as they always were, blinding really, and she had to step all the way to the front of the stage to even see the lights of the cell phones that were recording her every move.

 

Screams were still echoing around her and she couldn’t help but shiver at the contrast of the quiet of the stage.

 

At this point, the crowd was slowly figuring out that this was different. That this wasn’t how she usually began her shows - At least, not according to Youtube.

 

And it was with that knowledge that her nerves kicked into gear, as she suddenly thrust herself into a familiar situation that she hadn’t been in for so long, she’d almost forgotten what it was like.

 

Standing up here in front of a packed stadium, just her and her old guitar, it felt a little too close to home. Her mind was racing, taking her back. Back to another time, to that summer...

 

To Bellamy. 

 

In that moment, she felt like she was 18 again, the feeling of freedom, standing on the stage in that dive bar, pouring her soul into every song. 

 

Singing to the guy she loved.

 

The darkness of the audience made it easy to imagine that he was there then too, even though she knew it wasn’t true.

 

Even though she wanted him to be.

 

“Hey guys.” She said into the microphone and the cheers increased in volume.

 

She cleared her throat and smiled, knowing that she really was so lucky to have such support. To be surrounded by so much love.

 

“I know this is different.” Looking out, she could see the people directly in front of the stage lean over and whisper in the ears of their friends. “Probably not what you were expecting.”

 

The cheers were slowly dying down as they all started to listen to what she was saying, realizing that loud music wasn’t about to blare out of the speakers.

 

She strummed a D Major chord on her guitar and sighed deeply, steeling herself for the moment. 

 

The noise had finally faded into nothing, a comfortable silence in its place, the crowd hanging on her every word, her every movement.

 

“But tonight,” She paused, closing her eyes, and  _ his _ face danced behind her eyelids, smiling and lifting her up. Her laughter uninhibited and free. 

 

_ I never let go, Clarke. _

 

“Tonight I wanted to do something a little different.”

 

She nodded slightly then and started to strum, her fingers feeling heavy on nylon strings, the weight of her nerves pressing down around her, and yet, she still played, muscle memory forcing her to continue on.

 

_ I'm so glad you made time to see me. _

_ How's life? Tell me how's your family? _

_ I haven't seen them in a while. _

 

_ You've been good, busier than ever. _

_ We small-talk, work and the weather. _

_ Your guard is up and I know why. _

 

_ Because the last time you saw me is still burned in the back of your mind. _

_ You gave me roses and I left them there to die. _

 

Even now, she recalled the roses he’d given her that night, laying them in the floorboard, expecting to take them home and put them in a vase by her bedside.

 

Instead, she’d left them there and ran away, unaware that she wouldn’t see him again for so many years.

 

_ So this is me swallowing my pride, _

_ Standing in front of you, saying, "I'm sorry for that night," _

_ And I go back to December all the time. _

 

_ It turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you. _

_ Wishing I'd realized what I had when you were mine. _

_ I'd go back to December, turn around and make it alright. _

_ I go back to December all the time. _

 

She’d written this song two years into their separation, unable to ignore her own pining any longer, hoping that maybe if she put it down on paper, that the feelings would leave her. That she would be able to move on without him.

 

She had been wrong.

 

_ These days I haven't been sleeping, _

_ Staying up, playing back myself leavin'. _

_ When your birthday passed and I didn't call. _

 

_ And I think about summer, all the beautiful times, _

_ I watched you laughing from the passenger side. _

_ And realized I loved you in the fall. _

 

_ And then the cold came, the dark days when fear crept into my mind _

_ You gave me all your love and all I gave you was "Goodbye". _

 

She realized then, startled, that she was crying, and she smiled in spite of her pain because for the first time in a long time, she felt like herself again.

 

And even though this song was bittersweet, she knew now that all of those years she’d loved him, he had loved her back. Even if she’d never known.

 

_ I miss your tanned skin, your sweet smile. _

_ So good to me, so right. _

_ And how you held me in your arms that September night: _

_ The first time you ever saw me cry. _

 

_ Maybe this is wishful thinking, _

_ Probably mindless dreaming, _

_ But if we loved again, I swear I'd love you right. _

 

_ I'd go back in time and change it but I can't. _

_ So if the chain is on your door I understand. _

 

And she would understand.

 

This time, it was  _ her _ fault. It wasn’t her mother’s.

 

It was hers.

 

She only hoped she wasn’t too late and that he would hear about this performance before she was forced to leave the state again.

 

_ I go back to December all the time. _

_ All the time. _

 

 

Her fingers lightly strummed the last chord, the tones ringing out over the quiet of the audience, the people in the front row still watching, now with phones in their hands as they recorded, tears in their eyes.

 

She closed her eyes and dropped her hand to the wooden surface of her guitar, waiting for the reaction but still not expecting the uproar that followed, jolting her eyes back open.

 

People were cheering, jumping up and down, lights from camera phones were flashing all over the place, disorienting and bright.

 

She smiled a pleased smile at their excitement, so grateful that her little experiment had been successful.

 

That everyone seemed to like _ this  _ version of her too and that they weren’t disappointed by the change.

 

Her grin widened and she exhaled a sigh of relief, closing her eyes.

 

Suddenly, the crowd got louder, the cheers morphed into shrieks of joy and she nodded as she turned, expecting to find her back up dancers coming on stage, ready to take her guitar and for the show to begin.

 

Only, when she swiveled around, she stopped short at the sight of Bellamy Blake standing five feet away.

 

There were tears running down his face and he was breathing heavily, apparently having ran on stage.

 

“W-What are you doing here?”

 

He didn’t answer, only walked forward, his hands coming up to cup her face, his thumbs wiping the tears from her cheeks.

 

“I-” She started, but he cut her off completely, bringing his lips to hers, swallowing her words and clearing her mind.

 

Her hands left her guitar and immediately went to his hair, running into the strands there and holding him to her.

 

Vaguely, she registered her guitar squeezed between the two of them and the fact that they had undoubtedly turned off her microphone.

 

And somewhere in her mind, she realized that the cheers of her fans were  _ so loud,  _ unlike anything she’d ever heard before, and as she pulled away she laughed.

 

Bellamy’s smile was so bright, it reminded her of that very first time he’d smiled at her after her first performance at the bar.

 

“You did good, Princess.” He murmured, his words an echo from that same night, and she started crying even harder, even as she grinned.

 

“I did, didn’t I?” She whispered back, her lips brushing against his.

 

He nodded and kissed her again, quickly, sweetly, before pulling back to sigh.

 

“I think there are people waiting for you.”

 

He looked out to the people in the packed-out stadium, all of whom were still screaming, undoubtedly recording this very interaction to post to their social media accounts.

 

“Yeah, guess so.” She said with a small smile before turning back to him. “But something tells me they’re okay with this.”

 

He reached up, pushing her hair behind her ear.

 

“Still. Better get the show on the road. We have plans tonight.”

 

She inhaled sharply, hope blossoming inside her chest.

 

“We do?”

 

He nodded, smiling.

 

“Yeah, we do.” He promised. “And every night after, for that matter. So I hope you’re not busy.”

 

She tucked her chin, hiding her grin and biting down on her bottom lip.

 

“Oh, I don’t know.” She teased. “Couple of concerts, late nights traveling... Maybe a little dreaming in between, if I’m lucky.” She said softly, her eyes finding his, holding her breath as she waited for his response.

 

Bellamy laughed, leaning forward and kissing her forehead gently.

 

“I can work with that.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, I've decided that I just can't write a non-epic ending.
> 
> I need my all-encompassing, over-the-top declarations of love, okay?
> 
> I won't apologize for it.
> 
> Anywho, hope you liked it!
> 
> Like I said, the epilogue will post next week and then this fic is complete.
> 
> I HAVE started a new fic in my RomComREMIX series that will be four parts, updating on Wednesdays. The first part is already up if you want to give it a read!
> 
> Leave a comment and let me know if your sad/happy/angry MD is coming to an end and come yell at me on Twitter, as usual, @MallidayWrites.
> 
> Until next Sunday (Or Wednesday, if you want to read the other fic)...
> 
>  
> 
> -Mally


	12. A Beautiful Start to a Lifelong Love Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is how it ends.
> 
> Mindless Dreaming has been a beautiful journey of aesthetically pleasing backdrops and Notebook-esque drama.
> 
> I hope you enjoy these little snapshots.
> 
> See you on the flip side ;)

**A Beautiful Start to a Lifelong Love Letter**

**"I Choose You" by Sara Bareilles**

 

****

 

She was still reeling, her hands shaking as she removed her earrings and placed them in the small tray on her vanity.

 

It had been over an hour since Bellamy had interrupted her on stage and she still wasn’t over it.

 

Honestly, she would’ve let him stay on stage with her all night if he’d wanted, but unfortunately, he’d had to leave so she could finish her performance.

 

It was a packed-out stadium, after all, and the people in the crowd (As much as their Instagrams would love the story of her and Bellamy) came to hear her sing.

 

So Bellamy was taken backstage to wait it out, but she couldn’t stop smiling the whole time, randomly giggling in the middle of songs, giddy with the thought of Bellamy waiting for her.

 

However, when she came off stage, he wasn’t in the wings. 

 

He was likely in the screening room with Wells, she reasoned.

 

She headed to her dressing room, eager to get out of her final costume and out of the stadium to spend the evening with him, as promised.

 

A knock on the door jolted her from her musings and she quickly swiveled around to face the door.

 

“Come in.” She called to whoever was on the other side, holding her breath with hope.

 

The door opened and she grinned at the sight of a curly head of hair peeking around the wood, his hand gripping the edge of the wood as he looked inside.

 

“Hey.” He greeted softly. “I can come back later if you need.” He said, his eyes skimming up and down her body before meeting her eyes.

 

Her smile widened and she walked in his direction, grabbing his hand from the door and pulling him inside, closing the door behind him.

 

“What’s the matter?” She teased softly, her right hand moving to untie her silk robe so it fell open, revealing her lingerie set underneath. “Nervous?”

 

Bellamy’s eyes watched her every movement, darkening when he saw the bare skin she revealed.

 

“Not at all.” He murmured, his hands lifting to wrap around her waist and pulling her in closer. “Just thought I’d give you a moment if you need it.”

 

Her back hit the top of her vanity then and she realized that he had been walking her into it, his hands moving to the backs of her thighs as he lifted her up and placed her onto the edge.

 

He stepped in closer, standing between her legs as his hands slowly traced back and forth up her thighs, slowly making their way inwards.

 

She exhaled shakily, her hands threading through his thick curls and pulling him in closer, her forehead resting against his.

 

“The only moments I need from now on are with you.” She whispered, laying her soul on the line.

 

She watched as he registered her words, his eyes instantly moving to hers, his right hand gripping her thigh just a little harder.

 

“Don’t sell the house.” She pleaded quietly. “Please.”

 

Bellamy sighed, his eyes closing as he smiled.

 

“I wasn’t planning to, Princess.” 

 

She looked at him, eyes narrowed and he chuckled.

 

“Okay, so I _was_ , but…” One corner of his mouth lifted ruefully. “I don’t know that I would’ve been able to follow through with it, honestly. Even if you hadn’t come back.”

 

Her brow furrowed and he smiled again, his fingers drifting over her cheekbones softly.

 

“The house belongs to _you_ , Clarke. It always has.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Just like me, really.”

 

She laughed lightly, her fingers scratching his scalp lightly, massaging.

 

“ _You_ belong to me too, huh?” She questioned, her tone teasing.

 

“Well, yeah.” He said, almost as if she was silly for even asking.

 

She melted into his arms, leaning in to kiss him once more, this one slightly more heated before she pulled away slowly.

 

“I belong to you too, Bellamy.” She confessed. “I love you. I love you so much. I tried not to, if I’m being honest.” She chuckled. “But I failed dismally.”

 

He smiled a sad smile to match her own.

 

“Yeah, me too.” He squeezed her thigh once. “But now you’re home? For good?”

 

She nodded.

 

“I mean, I still have my career. My singing. But I can record in the city, it doesn’t have to be LA. But there will be touring…” She trailed off, nervous.

 

He chuckled, pulling her in even closer, his hips resting against hers.

 

“I told you. Every night from now on. Where you are, I’m there too, no question.” He promised, his voice steady.

 

“But what about the bar?” She asked, unable to contain the question.

 

“Good thing I have a partner to help things, yeah?” He kissed her once more. “Cause I spent three and a half years without you, Princess. I don’t plan to make that mistake again.”

 

She smiled, her teeth bright, as he swooped down and consumed her, leaning her backwards until her back hit the mirrored surface behind her.

  


* * *

  
  


**Two Years Later**

  


“I’m home!” she called as she lightly closed the door behind her with her foot, the bags of groceries in her hands heavy and unyielding.

 

She moved toward the kitchen, hearing the sounds of the 80’s Pandora station coming from the speaker on the kitchen counter.

 

Chuckling, she noted her husband swaying his hips from side to side to Duran Duran as he cooked something on the stovetop. Hamburger, by the smell of it.

 

She watched for a moment, amused by his actions, hearing him sing along under his breath.

 

Finally, she set the bags down on the counter, loud enough for him to hear.

 

He jumped slightly, turning around with his spatula in hand, eyes wide, before he realized who caused the disruption.

 

“Really?” She drawled. “I’m gone for an hour to buy some groceries and I come home to see you trying to put me out of a job?”

 

He grinned, sitting the spatula on the placeholder by the stove, and moved across the kitchen to wrap his arms around her waist.

 

“Don’t be threatened, Princess. You know I’m more of a bluegrass man. Your fans wouldn’t be interested in leaving you for me.”

 

She rolled her eyes and allowed her head to fall to the side as his face moved to the skin of her neck, leaving kisses along her pulse point.

 

“So what? Did you decide hair bands would be a better option?” She nodded toward where the sounds of Guns N’ Roses where emanating from the speaker.

 

She smiled as she felt him laugh into her shoulder, his form shaking.

 

“Or maybe I just wanted a different option for the evening.” He said, shrugging, as he backed away, headed for the stove once more.

 

“Mmhmm.” She said, crossing her arms over her chest as she studied him from her place leaning against the counters. “You seem exceptionally upbeat, not that I’m complaining. Any particular reason?”

 

He moved to turn off the stove top, tilting the pan and spreading the hamburger over its surface for an even cook. He placed it on a cool, unused burner and turned to face her, his grin even wider.

 

“I got the job.” He said simply.

 

Clarke’s face transformed into one of pure elation as she ran forward into his arms where he caught her, lifting her from the ground and spinning her around.

 

“OH MY GOD, BELLAMY! THAT’S AMAZING!!” She squealed, pulling back and smothering his face in kisses.

 

He laughed, trying to speak in between her attentions.

 

“I start fall semester, so it gives me plenty of time to learn the ins and outs of the online system before we leave for California.”

 

She jumped up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he gripped her thighs. He held her up as she pulled back to breathe, her smile never wavering.

 

“I can’t wait to help you grade papers and shit! It’s going to be so amazing! Think of all the fun we’ll have between shows this time!” She said, her pace fast and excited.

 

Bellamy rolled his eyes.

 

“Only you would be more excited about helping me grade undergrad papers than performing in your actual shows on tour.”

 

Clarke laughed, setting her feet back on the floor.

 

“You know I love performing, but I’m just so happy for you. You’re a professor!”

 

Bellamy grinned down at her, kissing her lightly on the cheek.

 

“I’m teaching business classes to community college students online. I hardly think that qualifies on the same level as a tenured position at a four year university.”

 

Clarke stared at him in exasperation.

 

“Stop that. I thought I had finally gotten you out of that habit of putting yourself down. You’re amazing, Bellamy.”

 

He nodded.

 

“You’re right. It’s awesome and I’m _so_ happy.” He turned back to the stove, pulling an unfinished casserole from the oven and continuing its construction with the cooked hamburger. “Besides, it’ll give me something to do while you’re entertaining the masses night after night.”

 

She moved behind him, wrapping her hands around him and resting them on his stomach.

 

“Shut up. You know you like watching from the sidelines. I see you staring at me, you know.”

 

He grabbed the bag of mozzarella from beside them and began to spread it on top of the dish.

 

“Yeah, yeah.” When he finished, he smacked his hands together and turned in her arms, resting his own hands on her hips. “Am I _not_ supposed to watch my hot wife perform on stage? Because I won’t apologize.”

 

She grinned, standing on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips.

 

“I would be disappointed if you did.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


**10 Years Later**

  


She sighed, plopping down on the couch and analyzing the notepad she’d picked up from the porch floor on her way back inside the house.

 

It was a good song, she admitted to herself. She’d definitely record it in the studio this weekend.

 

She had her own studio now.

 

After her second tour, Bellamy had built her one off the back of their house, claiming that if she could record at the house, he could see her more often and she could get more done without having to drive back and forth to the city.

 

He’d been right, of course.

 

Granted, these days, she didn’t do as much touring, choosing to put out albums and do small tours only in the states.

 

She was a mother first, wife second, and musician third. 

 

Tours weren’t that important anymore.

 

The sound of the screen door banging shut brought her attention to the man entering. He was shifting his hair back and forth with his hands as he tried to balance Callie on his hip.

 

“Don’t you dare drag sand into my house, Bellamy Blake.”

 

He grinned and she sighed at the familiar feeling of her heart stopping at the sight of it, even after all this time. He did unspeakable things to her health, that one.

 

“Wouldn’t dare, Princess.” He slipped his flip flops off as Callie giggled, her own hands shooting to Bellamy’s hair, mimicking his actions.

 

“Great, now you’ve taught our daughter to constantly put _her_ hands in hair. I’m going to have to wash it twice a day now.” She sighed. “Did you at least get all the sand out?”

 

He shrugged, setting their three year old on the floor. 

 

“All that I could. Rory is gonna bring in the towels and hang them on the porch railing.”

 

She nodded, standing from her position on the couch and walking toward their youngest.

 

She bent down to smile at her and pull her in close.

 

“Did Aurora dump sand all over you, munchkin?” She asked playfully.

 

Callie nodded and grinned, holding her hands up to show the sand still there, the dark brown under her fingernails making Clarke wince and glare up at her husband.

 

“I don’t know _why_ I trust you to get these two cleaned off before you enter the house. Marcus does a better job, I swear.”

 

At that moment, Aurora came bounding into the house as well, her flip flops dragging in sand particles and flinging them across the hardwood floor.

 

“I’m so sorry, mommy! I didn’t mean to!” She said, obviously worried that her mother would still be upset with her for dumping the sand on Callie’s head.

 

Clarke looked from Aurora’s sand-covered body to Bellamy’s grimace and back.

 

“It’s fine, sweety. Why don’t you go stand under the outdoor shower a little longer. Mommy will come help you get clean.”

 

The small girl nodded and exited the house once more, the door slamming behind her.

 

“You” Clarke said, pointing at Bellamy. “You _will_ answer for this.”

 

He smiled at her, his hand catching her by the waist before she could pass him on her way out of the house.

 

“You promise?” He asked, his eyebrow raising as he grinned.

 

She wanted to fake her anger a little longer but instead, she rolled her eyes, sighing before settling on a smirk.

 

“You bet.” She winked, bending down to pick up Callie from the floor and heading toward the door. “Now. We’re gonna go shower off all this sand.”

 

She turned, walking toward the side door their daughter had just exited.

 

“Shower, huh? I think I’ll join you.” He called to her as he followed her out.

 

“Oh _now_ you want to shower?” She chided, leaning unconsciously into his heat as he walked beside them. 

 

“Maybe this was my plan all along.” He teased.

 

“You’re insufferable.” She huffed.

 

“But you love me.” He said, leaning over to whisper in her ear before kissing her on the cheek.

 

She sighed.

 

“Yeah.” She smiled, looking up at him, their daughter giggling on her side. “I do.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Tear*
> 
> Note: I deliberately left Abby and Clarke's story on a hopeful, but open note, with a small references buried in there for those of you who caught it.
> 
> Maybe I'll write another outtake someday.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I did!
> 
> Leave me a comment, let me know what you think, and then come chat at me on Twitter @MallidayWrites
> 
> Next up: Two more updates to "!0 Things" and.... an outtake to "A Greater Pursuit!" --> Fans of that story can expect that to post sometime in the next two weeks.
> 
> Until Wednesday...
> 
> -Mally


End file.
